‘But stay, whose letter is this by the same post?’ and he opened the envelope. The look of exultation at once gave way to passion. ‘Here is another coward, another traitor!—Palghatcherry has fallen! the place we ourselves saw provisioned and garrisoned with the best troops;—shame on them! shame on them! they are women, not men. By Alla! I have women in the Mahal who would have died ere they had suffered a kafir to enter. Now there is a road opened from sea to sea, and the infidel English will not be slow to avail themselves of it. Yet this does but hasten our intentions. Ye have your leave now to retire, my friends. Go, and say there will be a Durbar to-night,—no, to-morrow at noon; for, by the blessing of the Prophet! ere then a new dream may be vouchsafed for our guidance, Khoda Hafiz!’
They withdrew with many obeisances, and the strange being was left to his meditations, and to the wild visions of conquest, which the words of the Rao had resolved into matters apparently within his grasp.
Jaffar Sahib reached his abode with feelings it would be difficult to describe; the money was but a trifle to him in amount, for in his career of rapacity and plunder he had amassed thousands; but it was so lent out among bankers, suttlers, the men of the risala, and those of the bazaar, that he feared he should hardly be able to raise it in time to meet the Sultaun’s demand, and without it he had little hope that mercy would be extended to him. As he dismounted from his horse, his attendant Madar met him.
‘A woman is within,’ he said, pointing to the door of the apartment; ‘she came here a short while ago, and would take no denial, saying she would wait for thee.’
‘A woman! in the name of the Shitan what doth she want?—is she young and fair?’
‘Willa-alum!’ replied the man, grinning, ‘your worship will see; she is veiled from head to foot.’
‘Most strange! Away with ye all from hence, it may be the matter is private, and we would be alone.’ As he spoke, he entered the door. There was a small room at the back of the open shop he had hired; a door led from that into a small court, where was a shed for cooking or bathing, and a low verandah. There was no one in the room; he opened the door, and looked around. Close beside it, in the verandah, sat a woman, veiled from head to foot in a thick sheet; she appeared to be trembling violently, for the covering was much agitated.
‘Who, in the name of Satan, art thou,’ cried the Jemadar, ‘who comest at this unseasonable hour?’ She did not reply, and he spoke again more roughly.
‘Alla be merciful to me! Jaffar,’ she exclaimed, throwing herself at his feet, and clasping his knees, while she cast the veil from her, ‘it is indeed thou! hast thou forgotten Sozun?’
‘Sozun! Sozun!’ he repeated, as he drew his hand across his forehead, ‘she of Salem? Holy Alla! hast thou risen from the dead? is this a dream?’