Her grandfather was indigent, as who could deny? Whence, then, the rich silver necklet, the bangles, the great belt of uncut turquoise, blue as the spring sky--whence the strong Bhootia pony? Had Ahmed Dutt been otherwise than a smoke-sodden idiot and a dotard, he had, according to custom, sold this valuable chattel a full year ago, and received as her price three hundred rupees, yea, and young asses, perchance, and buffaloes. As it was, Durali ruled him tyrannically, flouted all humble pretenders for her hand, and at eighteen years of age was her own mistress, fancy-free, poor, ambitious, and beautiful--miraculously beautiful! since her wondrous loveliness stirred even the leathern hearts of these hill-men; and she possessed a face, figure, craft, and coquetry, amply warranted to set the whole of Kumaon in a blaze. Yea, the saying that “to be her friend was unfortunate, to be her suitor beckoned death,” deterred but few. It was undeniable that Farid Khan had fallen over the khud, on the bad road to Pura; do not his bones lie, to this day, unburied and bleaching, at the foot of that awful precipice? _Who_ said that his rival, Jye Bhan, had pushed him in the dark? Who could prove it? At any rate, he was no more. As was also Kalio Thapa, carried away by a mighty flood in the Sardah river--how it befell, who could say? And there was, moreover, Phulia, who had certainly hanged himself because Durali had spurned him. Many were her adorers, and exceedingly bitter the hatred they bore to one another. Durali was tall, erect, and Juno-like, with a skin like new wheat, features of a bold Greek type, abundant jet-black hair, and a pair of magnificent eyes. Other women declared that there was magic in these--certainly they spoke with tongues, they commanded, exhorted, entreated, dazzled, and bewitched. But Durali owed nothing to the fine feathers which enhance the attractions of so many fine birds. She wore a dark-blue petticoat and short cotton jacket, a few bangles and a copper charm--the ordinary attire of an ordinary Pahari girl; dress could add but little to her superb personality. The handsome granddaughter of Ahmed Dutt was well known by reputation in the surrounding villages, her name was in every one’s mouth, her fame had penetrated even as far as Almora itself. At the sacred feast of the Dusserah, where crowds assemble to behold the yearly sacrifice, there Durali appeared for the first time, and in gala costume, wearing a short-sleeved red velveteen bodice, an enviable silver necklet, and a flower behind each ear. The eyes of half the multitude were riveted on the hill beauty--instead of the devoted buffalo, which had been tied up for days, at the quarter guard of the Ghoorkas, and now innocently awaited its impending fate. Yes, people actually thronged, and pressed, and pushed, and strove, in order to obtain a good look at the famous Durali, for whom men had contended, and fought--ay, and died. * * * * *