“No, sir. I have no fear. You will not let me die.”
His complete confidence, however, did not inspire me with the same feeling. There was a wooden platform in my garden, and we pulled it under the colonnade, where it was shady, and the Moolah lay down. I had sent for one of the Hindustanis to give chloroform, but he did not come: it was the Sabbath, Friday. My neighbour, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, said he could give chloroform, he had seen it done. As I could not operate and attend to the chloroform as well, I was compelled to let the Mirza try. He put the man under successfully—he had seen it done—though he knew nothing of the dangers of giving too much. I made a longitudinal incision in the middle line of the throat and commenced dissecting down with a knife and a pair of forceps, the skin being stretched back by one of the soldiers, who were gathered in a group round. When I had got rather deep there was a sudden gush of blood, rapid and copious. I had divided the first of five arteries that had to be cut through before the tumour could be removed. I wanted to tie the artery, but there was no finding it at the bottom of a deep narrow cut that filled with blood the moment the sponge was lifted. At last I managed blindly to catch the artery with a pair of forceps and tie it: the bleeding ceased. After this, I dissected down and tied the arteries before I cut them. Then I removed the tumour in its capsule. It weighed ten and a-half ounces. I sent it to the Amîr, who congratulated me on the success of the operation. The Moolah we left on the platform under the colonnade, covering him with a sheepskin postîn, and gave orders to the soldiers of the guard to take turns in watching by his side, and to call me if the bleeding broke out or if he seemed worse. The Moolah, poor fellow, had high fever the next day, and the third day he died. A day or two afterwards I said to the Mirza how sorry I was he had died, but the Mirza laughed and said:—
“Dèk ne me-showi. Be not sorrowful, you said he would die, and he died. It was so written in the book of Fate.”
CHAPTER XIV.
The Rearing of the Infant Prince.
The Amîr’s autograph letter. Medical consultation concerning the rearing of the Prince. Conflicting customs of the Orient and the Occident. Conservative nurses. The “Hakim fair to see”: the patient: his fate. Lessons in Persian and lessons in English. Portrait painting. Dietary difficulties. Gracious acts of His Highness. Amîr’s letter of condolence. The Royal visit by deputy. Congratulations of the British Agent. The doleful dumps of illness and the cheery Armenian. Accident to the favourite Page. The khirgar. Story of the attempt upon the life of the Amîr. An earthquake. Afghan appreciation of pictures and jokes. Generosity of the Amîr. The first winter Durbar. His Highness’s invention. The Royal costume. The bearing of the men brought before His Highness. The Amîr’s question: the Parable. Arrangement and furnishing of the dining-room. The guests. The breakfast. The press of State business. Amîr’s thoughtful kindness. The Armenian’s comment. Visit to the Commander-in-Chief. The ride to the Hospital. Adventure with the “fool horse.” Hospital patients in winter. “Two much and three much.”
At the beginning of October I received an autograph letter from His Highness, directing me to consult with the two chief Hakims, Abdul Wahid and Abdur Rashid, and advise as to the best manner in which to rear the infant Prince. This is a literal translation of His Highness’s letter:—
Amîr’s Autograph Letter.
“To the Honourable and Righteous Dr. Gray,