But Zóra pushed the woman fiercely away, dashing the silver cup of water to the ground, rushing to a corner, where she crouched down like a wounded animal, drawing the scarf round her head and body. The women were afraid of her. Her utterly dishevelled hair hung in wild masses about her breast and neck; her lips were white and dry, flecked with blood and foam, which had dried there; her cheeks were already hollow and sunken, and of an ashy grey colour, while her eyes seemed sunk in their sockets, and flashed with the angry glare of a panther.
"Mercy on us!" said Máma Luteefa, trembling, "she looks as if she would spring on us like a wild cat, and tear us to pieces. What is to be done with her? Yet she is beautiful, Shireen-bee, most beautiful in her passion. Hush! here is the Nawab; what will he do?"
As the woman spoke, Osman Beg entered the apartment. "What have ye done with her?" he said, sharply. "Johur told me she was here."
Máma Luteefa pointed to the corner, which was somewhat dark. "There she is," she said, rising. "We cannot get her to speak; she will not drink water, and sits there growling like a wild cat. We are afraid of her, Nawab Sahib."
"Afraid!" he said, savagely; "afraid! Why 'tis thy trade, Máma Luteefa, to fit brides for their husbands. Afraid!" and he stepped hastily across the room, and seizing Zóra by the arm, dragged her to her feet. "This the beauty they promised me?" he said scornfully, flinging away the girl's hand.
"Do not fling away thy destiny, my lord," said Máma Luteefa. "Behold she is beautiful, more lovely than I ever thought for. That is no low-born maiden; but whoever she is, she hath blood as good as thine, Osman Beg."
The action of the Nawab had roused all Zóra's dormant energy. "Let me go! let me go!" she cried, passionately. "Let me go! Abba is waiting for me. He will die if I do not go to him! For the love of Alla, let me go! Thou wouldst not insult a Syud's child? By your mother's honour, stay me no longer, and I will pray for thee during thy life. By the honour of and life of Queen Chand I implore thee to let me go, or I shall die, and Abba will die. How often hath the old man been kind to thee; how often sent thee medicine when thou wert ill." She had brushed aside the hair from her face mechanically as she spoke in broken words, and stood before him with her face flushed and her eyes blazing. "Insult and dishonour to me, to a Syud's child!" she continued, indignantly; "it cannot be. Nawab, if thou hast ought of justice and mercy in thy heart, have the door opened and let me go free!"
"Ha!" returned the Nawab, in a low, hissing voice, "let thee go? No, a thousand times no! Thou art very beautiful, Zóra," he continued, almost tenderly, "and I accept my destiny. For good or for evil, for honour or dishonour, I accept it as it was sent. Thou shalt be my wife, Zóra, whether thou wilt or no. Need I, Osman Beg, ask permission of a wilful child? Go to! be not a fool, Zóra! Riches and jewels may not tempt thee, but I will have thy love, if it be only to trample it in the dust and fling it away. Dost thou hear? Who defies Osman Beg perishes; yet thou mightest live in honour, and have children about thy knees, and thy grandfather living in peace until he died. Choose, then, what thou wilt. Once thy grandfather rejected me with scorn, now my turn has come."
Zóra had been tottering as she stood; and as she watched the horrible expressions which followed each other over the Nawab's face, she became terrified, and sank fainting to the ground.