'_Ai teri!_ wouldest deny my right--the widow's right? _Ai! mere adme_,
thy sahib is dead, and there is none to see justice done and employ thy
relations! _Ai! mere dil murgya! murgya!_'
As the renewed sense of her wrongs rose in the familiar wail, the women
from within joined in it dutifully. Without, the girl, with her hands
clenched and her wild eyes straining into the shadows, seemed to be
caught and carried away by it also, and her shrill voice echoed theirs
instinctively.
'_Ai! mere sahib murgya. Ai! mere dil murgya! murgya!_'
The women, scared to death at the unexpected aid, stopped suddenly, and
the young voice rose alone.
'_Ai! mere dil murgya! murgya!_'
The sound of her own wailing brought home to her the truth, rousing her
passion, her grief, her anger, to madness; and in one swift desire for
revenge she turned and ran.
'_Mere sahib murgya!_'
The wail echoed over the wild swirl of the flood-water as she crossed
the bridge once more. It was trembling now before its doom as the water
rose inch by inch. And could that be rain? that large warm drop upon
her hand, so large that it ran down between her fingers? Another on her
upturned face, blinding her. If those were raindrops, and many of them
came, it might, indeed, be the deluge of the Most High. And if it were?
Had not the end of all things come to her already? Yet as she ran she
looked curiously into the sky. Not a cloud was visible; only an even
haze of grey vapour, through which now and again a great drop splashed
down upon her, warm and soft.
'_Ai! mere sahib! mere sahib!_'
No more than a sob now; yet even that she hushed as the Mori gate
showed black before her. Should it be Chândni? No, not yet; but for
Dalel and the hopes of him, the woman would have cared nothing for
water or no water. So she passed on through the causeway. One or two
villagers, hurrying, like her, through the darkness, talking in scared
whispers of the strange flood, fell back from her path terrified. A
knot of men in the bazaar huddled aside as she slipped by like a
shadow; even in the courtyard of the palace the watchmen, gathered
round one pipe for the comfort of companionship in such uncanny times,
gave no more than an uneasy glance at the half-seen figure which they
did not care to challenge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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