"Silence!" cried Tara panting, as these bitter words stung her to the quick. "Silence! thou art shameless, Gunga. O, what have I ever done to harm thee, that thou hast such bitter enmity to me?"
"Thou art beautiful, and I hate thee for that. I hated thee long ago, before thou wast a Moorlee," she replied. "He loved me once, that Moro Trimmul there; now he cries, 'Tara! Tara!' all day long, like a sick child, and will not look on me. Thou wilt hate me because I have taken thee from thy beautiful lover; but, O Tara, more deeply do I hate thee for taking mine from me. Look, he gave me this gold zone. It is as heavy as thine—heavier. That is all I have left—that is all. He will give thee another, by-and-by; not now, but when he has done with thee. Enough! Take her away, Moro Trimmul. I have done thy bidding, and earned the gold. Take her away—far away—ere I repent of this, the worst work of my life, and join her against thee. Go!"
"Gunga! Gunga! go not," cried Tara, seizing her dress. "There is pity in thy heart, let it come out to me. O, leave me not to him, by your mother, by your——"
"Come," cried Moro Trimmul fiercely, casting his arm about her. "This is child's play, come.... Nay, Tara, gently, and it were better for thee—else I will strike thee," he said, under his breath, but with a terrible distinctness, as she struggled violently, shrieking as she did so. "Gunga! the shawl. Quick, girl—lest she be heard without. Quick! Bar the outer door."
It was too late. Several persons, among whom was an elderly Brahmun of sedate and respectable appearance, attended by armed retainers, came up the steps hurriedly and entered the room. Between the noise of Tara's shrieks and his own exertions, Moro Trimmul had not heard them, and with Gunga's aid had forced Tara to the ground, and was endeavouring to tie the shawl about her head, which she was resisting with all her might; but Gunga had succeeded in catching her hands, and Tara was much exhausted. Another instant, and she would have been helplessly in their power; but at this moment Gunga saw the curtain pushed aside, and one of the men enter with his sword drawn; and, loosing Tara, she upset the cruise burning in the niche, and fled into an inner portion of the dark apartment.
"Who art thou?" cried the man, darting forward and seizing Moro Trimmul's arm; "what murder is this thou art doing?"
He had had no time to escape, or even to rise from his kneeling posture to shake off the soldier's grip, and two others also caught him at the same moment; while the elderly man, calling earnestly for a light, raised up Tara, and disengaged her from the shawl which had been thrown about her. "Art thou wounded?" he said.
"By the Holy Mother," cried one of the men with whom Moro Trimmul was struggling violently, "be quiet, else I will drive my knife into thee. Bind him, brothers, he may be armed. Quick!"
At this moment a man bearing a lighted torch came into the court from the street, and ran rapidly up the steps into the room. As the light flashed upon the struggling group of men, the leader of the party recognized Moro Trimmul, and bid his retainers release him. As they did so, Tara, who had partly risen, sank again to the ground, clasping his knees, and crying piteously for protection.
The old Brahmun understood the situation at a glance. "There was another woman here,—seize her!" he exclaimed. She was not, however, to be found. "Peace," he said to Tara, "peace, my daughter; be comforted, no one shall harm thee. Who art thou? What has happened?"