"And what think you of all this, Meah?" asked his companion, for an instant slackening his pace; "what will the noble Khan Sahib say to it?--not indeed that he and the Wuzeer are very intimate friends either. I tell thee, were not my heart turning to that devil Tannajee Maloosray, I should be lost in wonder at the Wuzeer's folly." "Even so," said Fazil, sighing; "a man in whom I would have placed confidence as in my own father--one who ought to be honoured and loved for his faith--is but a poor knave, after all, Bulwunt--not better than that miserable Lalla whom we have just left--a thing for men to spit upon. Alas for the world's honesty, brother! A heap of gold, a few empty titles, the smile of a woman,--and power--which does but make its possessor miserable when he has gained it--turns right to wrong, justice to oppression, virtue to vice, honesty to knavery, faith to treachery. We look for it in the highest, but it flies from us; we seek it in the lowest, and turn from them but too often in despair. Should not one sigh at depravity like this, which finds no echo in one's own heart?" "True, Meah, and may it long be so with you," returned his companion; "but your experience of life is as yet small, and as it increases I fear you will search in vain for the purity which your own heart now pictures. Perhaps it may exist among women. Sree Swâmi knows, and you may find it there. I have not, Meah; but in the world abroad, when you have more to do with it, your sensitive spirit will become blunted by degrees, and, though a serious matter like this will trouble it, you will gradually learn to pass many a broad lie or rogue's trick which now vexes you, without notice beyond a passing curse or a hasty blow. Patience, Meah Sahib! thou hast much to learn yet; would it were good, and not evil!" "Ah, would it were, Bulwunt Rao! Your experience is from the crooked ways and thoughts of your own people, of which men make proverbs; but for a noble of the state to betray his salt in this base manner, makes me sick at heart. But this is no time, friend, to think of aught but the work we have to do; and what more has to come of the night we know not. Hark! the thunder growls again, and the storm is coming up fast--we had as well run on to shelter; and what more may follow, Alla knows!" So saying, they hastened as rapidly as the rough ground and increased darkness would admit, Bulwunt Rao guiding his young master through narrow lanes and over deserted spaces, till they again emerged into the now nearly deserted bazar. It was just past midnight, for the trumpeter at the guard-house, taking up the signal from the fort gate, had blown a flourish, which was understood by the keepers of liquor-shops in the quarter. The booths were still open, as well as those of confectioners and bhung or opium sellers; but the lights were being extinguished, and the groups which had been concealed within turned into the street.