The soldier nearest Fidá turned slightly toward him, and began, speaking as if by rote: “Omar the Mohammedan, answering our demand of five thousand copper pieces,[3] specified jewels, and treaty of eternal peace with Mandu as the price of the freedom of Fidá el-Asra, spake thus: That what was demanded was greater than the value of any man. That he would give, with the permission of the Lord Aybek of Delhi, the large price of five hundred dirhems for his nephew; and, we refusing the offer, he then returned this message to Rai-Khizar-Pál, Maharaj’ of Mandu: ‘Let the King beware that he touch not one hair of the head of Prince Fidá. The sword of the great Prophet is ablaze over the land, and, in a year’s time, all the country from Lahore to the great Ghats will be under the rule of the faithful. Let Fidá, my nephew, be of good heart. Let him be assured that any injury to him will be avenged a thousand-fold upon the people of Mandu, and that the King himself shall answer for his daring with his life. Thus speaks Omar of the Asra, a follower of Mohammed, in the name of Allah, the one God, the compassionate, the merciful.’” [3] Before the Mohammedan conquest, copper was the standard of currency in India. “Thou hearest it! Thou hearest this message of thy kinsman?” shouted Rai-Khizar, stirred anew to wrath with the rehearing of the insolent message. “Ah! Dost thou not perceive? My uncle desires my death—longs for my death, that he may know himself the head of his race!” Fidá cried, in an agony of bitterness. Then, while the Rajah gazed down upon him in astonishment, the slave once more fell upon his face before the conqueror: “O King, live forever! Let the King show mercy to his slave! Let him remember how I refused to assume the state of the ransomed when the messengers left Mandu. Let Rai-Khizar-Pál remember that I am his slave, defenceless. Let him show himself more merciful than my own people!” Fidá pled passionately, scarce knowing why it was that life had suddenly become so precious to him. To the surprise of the soldiers, and, perhaps, to his own, his words served. The Rajah sat silent for some moments, his pride and anger struggling with his sense of justice. In the end the good triumphed. His frown softened, and he rose to his feet, saying: “Thou shalt live, then, Asra, by my mercy. Return to thy kennel! But, by Indra, the Mohammedan hath not yet seen the last of Rai-Khizar-Pál!”