"I understand," said he, "and will do my trust faithfully."
"I believe you," I replied; "and now for the road,—which to take I am undecided. I have heard that two branch off from this to Hyderabad."
"Stay," said Bhudrinath; "I think Peer Khan knows both. I will go and bring him; you know he is one of my set."
He went, and returned with the man. "I have explained all to him," said he, "and now hear what he has to say."
"I beg to represent," said Peer Khan, "that I know both roads, but not perfectly; still I should think what the Meer Sahib counsels the best, for the other is a sad lonely one, and few travellers go by it. As to the chance of being pursued, we must trust to our good Tukdeer (destiny), which has brought us thus far without an accident, and Inshalla! will carry us on."
"Well, Peer Khan," said I, "you must be the guide; you are the only person who knows anything about the road, and I can only say that if you are steady and faithful I will make you a handsome present when I overtake you at Nirmul."
"May your condescension increase, Meer Sahib," said he; "but putting the enam out of the question, you know very well that there is not a man among us who would not give his blood to-morrow, or any time he might be called upon, for you. But come, Bhudrinath, as we are to start soon, I had better get the men together, and be ready."
I returned to the tent, where I found Zora and the old woman sitting covered up in their sheets, and warming themselves over a fire they had lighted. In a few words I told them of the necessity of flight, and added, "Alas! I do not accompany you now; we have had a consultation on the subject, and have determined that, for the sake of mutual safety, we must for the present separate. Alla, who sees my heart, knows that it will burn with anxiety and care while I am absent from you; for know, lady, that from the time I first beheld you in the durbar, my soul hath been consumed by your beauty, and as then I was plunged into despair at the thought that you never could be mine, so now is the excess of grief that I must part with you."
She was silent for some time; but at last throwing back her veil, and again displaying her beautiful face to me, she put her hand into mine. "I trust you," said she; "I have no fear now except for you; I will go without a murmur, for I see how necessary it is for us to separate; yet assure me, my beloved, that you will not be long away, and I am content."
"I repeat," said I, "only two days at the furthest; we shall follow you to-morrow evening, or the next morning; and once that we are in motion, I will push on till I overtake you, where we will wait for my father and the rest."