‘Not so,’ said Philip, ‘tell it yourself, I should only blunder in the narration;’ and he added, ‘since we have been together, I have never asked after the lady you loved, Meer Sahib; it is a painful question, perhaps, and may awaken thoughts and feelings long since dead. You smile—I rejoice to see it.’
‘You know, Sahib, we Moslems are not given to speaking of our wives or families,’ said Kasim, ‘and therefore I have never mentioned her; but she lives, I rejoice to say, and is as beautiful to my eyes as ever.’
‘Come!’ said Herbert, ‘if it be a tale of love, let me hear it; I have talked long enough, and can listen patiently.’
Kasim then related his adventures, from the time he had appeared a youth in Tippoo’s Durbar, to that in which, wearied by his cruelties and uneven temper, he had left him, and had so narrowly escaped assassination.
‘I reached my village,’ he continued, ‘and long remained in secrecy, enjoying the quiet of my own home. I read my favourite poets, wrote verses, and a history of my own adventures, to pass the time; but in truth, after so much excitement, I at length grew tired of the dull life, and looked around me for employment. The administration of the affairs and collection of the revenue of my district happened then to be vacated by the person who had held the offices, and, as I understood the duties perfectly, I solicited and obtained the situation by help of a douceur to the minister: in its duties, and in the suppression of the disorders of the country, I found ample employment. Still I had never visited the city of Hyderabad, and as I had need to go there to arrange some matters with the minister regarding the revenue collections, I determined upon a short visit, and was courteously received both by him and by the Prince, who spoke much to me of the Sultaun’s character, and the wild schemes of conquest which he meditated.
‘I was delighted with the city, and the polite and courtly character of its nobles, and I remained longer than I had intended. One day I was riding towards the minister’s house, in order to take my leave of him, previously to my departure, when a woman, rather old, but decently dressed as a servant, whose features at first sight appeared familiar to me, ran towards me in the open street, and catching hold of the rein of my horse uttered a loud cry of joy. The horse was a spirited one, and began to curvet and bound, and she dared not approach me. I saw her speak to my groom; and when she had learned where I lived, she told him she would come in the evening, waved her hand to me, and darted down a narrow street. All that day I wondered much who she could be; I could not by any effort recall her name to my memory, and though I had an engagement with a friend, I waited at home till late.
‘About dark a woman came, closely veiled, leading another. Both, as they entered, threw themselves at my feet, and kissed them repeatedly, uttering expressions of joy; they could not speak intelligibly for some time, nor would they unveil, though I could hear from their voices that they were aged. At length one playfully pulled the veil from the other’s head, and to my joy and surprise I beheld Meeran. I recognised her instantly, and, raising her up, embraced her cordially. Sahib, the other was Sozun.
‘I was, as you may suppose, breathless to know Ameena’s fate. Was she alive? or did that hated place I remembered hold her mortal remains? “Speak, I conjure you,” I cried, “for I burn with impatience.”
‘“She lives, Meer Sahib,” said Meeran; “she lives, blessed be Alla and Moula Ali, and the Apostle and the Lady Muriam! to whom we have offered up Fateehas for her recovery on every anniversary of that event. Ah, Meer Sahib, it is before me now!”
‘“Alive!” I cried; "but perhaps she is another’s; some nobleman hath heard of her beauty, and hath sought her in second marriage?"