Then follows the torture of the prisoners, the rifling of the zenana. There is one slave beautiful, small, delicate in form, an eye like the gazelle's, fair as the beauties of Room or the fabled ones of England. She falls at his feet--he is captivated. She conquers, and the Nika is performed. They live happily for some time; but the fame of the beauty of the daughter of a neighbour reaches him. His soul is on fire; his former love is neglected. He proposes marriage; it is accepted; the bride comes home, and a deadly jealousy ensues between the rival wives. The quarrels of the zenana are described; and by the shrieks of laughter from behind the screen, it is easy to believe how naturally all had been described and acted. The Nuwab has reached middle age; he is now a father of a family, a respectable man, a religious man, surrounded by Moolas, who flatter him, and have usurped the places of his former companions. He is as debauched as ever; but it is not known; he passes for a just and good man, and his durbar is described, and his judgments. What was Solomon compared with him? or Hatim Tai, or Lokman the wise? And at each enumeration of his virtues the assembly loudly applauded, and directed their looks to the real Nuwab who sat as the spectator. Again the Nuwab is shown, old and decrepid, worn out by disease, surrounded by quacks, from whom he demands nostrums to make him young and vigorous. His zenana is fuller than ever of women, who flatter his vanity, tell him he is as young as ever he was, and yet are false to him; but he has a son who promises to excel his father, who is a Mejnoon in form, a Roostum in valour, before whom his father's enemies are scattered like chaff from the grain before the wind. The old Nuwab is growing more and more decrepid and querulous. His fancies and longings are described in a most laughable manner; and as the final event approaches, he sinks into his eternal sleep, sure of the seventy Houris of Paradise, and the eternal youth, which is the portion of true believers. Having concluded, they stepped forward for the largess promised. "Well, Meer Sahib," said the Nuwab to me, "how like you this?--have the men done ill or well?" "Ul-humd-ul-illa!" said I; "the works of Alla are wonderful, and assuredly these fellows are of his especial handywork. I have seen many of their caste before, but never any like these." "They shall be well rewarded," said the Nuwab; "and yet, despite of our having laughed at the whole story, there is much of a moral in it, and much satire. Would that many of the rising generation could receive a lesson from it; they might become wiser and better men." "Ameen," I replied; "my lord's remarks are just. I did not notice the satire when I heard it; but now I feel it, and it is just."