Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
I hesitated, for I had heard strange stories of lures spread for unwary
persons--how they were enticed into houses for the gratification of
wicked women, and then murdered. But the thought was only momentary.
"Courage! Ameer Ali," said I to myself; "trust to your good Nusseeb,
and follow it up. Inshalla! there will be some fun."
"Look you," said I to the girl, "you see I am well armed; I will follow
you, but if violence is shown, those who oppose me will feel the edge
of a sharp sword."
"I swear by your head," said the girl, "there is no danger. My lord is
gone into the country, and has taken all the men with him; there is no
one in the house beside myself but two slaves and three old women."
"Then lead on," said I; "I follow you."
She entered the gateway and conducted me through a court into an open
room, where sat a girl, richly dressed and of great beauty; but she
covered herself immediately with her dooputta, and cried when she saw
me, "Ya Alla! it is he; am I so fortunate?"
"Yes, lady," said I, "your slave is at your feet, and prays you to
remove that veil which hides a hoori of paradise from the gaze of a
true believer."
"Go," said she faintly; "now that you are here I dare not look on you;
go, in the name of Alla! what will you not have thought of me?"
"That your slave is the most favoured of his race," said I; "I beseech
you to look on me, and then bid me depart if you will."
"I cannot," said the fair girl, "I cannot, I dare not; ah, nurse, what
have you made me do?"
The old woman made me a sign to take the veil from her face, and I did
so gently: she faintly opposed me, but it was in vain; in an instant I
had removed it, and a pair of the loveliest eyes I had ever seen fixed
their trembling gaze upon me--another, and I had clasped her to my
heart.
"That is right," said the old woman; "I like to see some spirit in a
lover; Mashalla! he is a noble youth;" and she came and cracked her
fingers over my head.
"Now I will leave you," said she; "you have a great deal to say to each
other, and the night is wearing fast."
"No, no, no!" cried the girl; "do not leave us; stay, good nurse, I
dare not trust myself with him alone."
"Nonsense," cried the old woman, "this is foolishness; do not mind her,
noble sir;" and she left the room.
"Lady," said I, "fear not, your slave may be trusted;" and I removed
from her, and sat down at the edge of the carpet.
"I know not what you will think of me, Sahib," she said, "and I am at
a loss how to confess that I was enamoured of you as I saw you pass my
house yesterday; but so it was; my liver turned to water as I looked on
your beauty, and I pined for you till my attendants thought I should
have died. They said they would watch for you, and Alla has heard my
prayer and sent you."
"He has sent a devoted slave," said I; "one whose soul burns with love,
such as that of the bulbul to the rose: speak, and I will do your
bidding."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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