Again the Nuwab is shown, old and decrepid, worn out by disease, surrounded by quacks, from whom he demands nostrums to make him young and vigorous. His zenana is fuller than ever of women, who flatter his vanity, tell him he is as young as ever he was, and yet are false to him; but he has a son who promises to excel his father, who is a Mejnoon in form, a Roostum in valour, before whom his father's enemies are scattered like chaff from the grain before the wind. The old Nuwab is growing more and more decrepid and querulous. His fancies and longings are described in a most laughable manner; and as the final event approaches, he sinks into his eternal sleep, sure of the seventy Houris of Paradise, and the eternal youth, which is the portion of true believers. Having concluded, they stepped forward for the largess promised.
"Well, Meer Sahib," said the Nuwab to me, "how like you this?—have the men done ill or well?"
"Ul-humd-ul-illa!" said I; "the works of Alla are wonderful, and assuredly these fellows are of his especial handywork. I have seen many of their caste before, but never any like these."
"They shall be well rewarded," said the Nuwab; "and yet, despite of our having laughed at the whole story, there is much of a moral in it, and much satire. Would that many of the rising generation could receive a lesson from it; they might become wiser and better men."
"Ameen," I replied; "my lord's remarks are just. I did not notice the satire when I heard it; but now I feel it, and it is just."
The night was far advanced; and, requesting leave to depart, I rose to be gone. I was passing the Tuwaifs, when an old woman pulled me by the sleeve, and said, hurriedly, "If you seek an opportunity, there is another who desires one. Be secret; you shall hear more from me." My blood boiled. I slipt a piece of money into her hand, and departed.
[CHAPTER IX.]
I said my blood boiled. Could it be that one so lovely—one who had kept company with the nobles and men of wealth of Hyderabad, had seen aught to admire in me, who was unused to courtly scenes, and was even yet a boy, deficient in manner and address?—could it be that, from my dress and appearance, she thought me rich—one who would squander my substance upon her? These thoughts were passing through my mind, and we had nearly reached our encampment without my having interchanged a word with my companions. The silence was broken by Bhudrinath.