“He is, papa,” said the Begum.

“Are you sure?  Ho! ho! ho!” (the old ruffian was laughing outside)—­“are you sure it is?—­Ha! aha!—­He-E-E!”

“Indeed it is he, and no other.  I pray you, father, to go, and to pass no more such shameless jests on your daughter.  Have I ever seen the face of any other man?” And hereat she began to weep as if her heart would break—­the deceitful minx!

Holkar’s laugh was instantly turned to fury.  “Oh, you liar and eternal thief!” said he, turning round (as I presume, for I could only hear) to Loll Mahommed, “to make your prince eat such monstrous dirt as this!  Furoshes, seize this man.  I dismiss him from my service, I degrade him from his rank, I appropriate to myself all his property:  and hark ye, furoshes, give him A hundred dozen more!”

Again I heard the whacks of the bamboos, and peace flowed into my soul.

*****

Just as morn began to break, two figures were seen to approach the little fortress of Futtyghur:  one was a woman wrapped closely in a veil, the other a warrior, remarkable for the size and manly beauty of his form, who carried in his hand a deal box of considerable size.  The warrior at the gate gave the word and was admitted, the woman returned slowly to the Indian camp.  Her name was Puttee Rooge; his was—­

G. O’G.  G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A.

CHAPTER VI.

Famine in the garrison.

Thus my dangers for the night being overcome, I hastened with my precious box into my own apartment, which communicated with another, where I had left my prisoner, with a guard to report if he should recover, and to prevent his escape.  My servant, Ghorumsaug, was one of the guard.  I called him, and the fellow came, looking very much confused and frightened, as it seemed, at my appearance.

“Why, Ghorumsaug,” said I, “what makes thee look so pale, fellow?” (he was as white as a sheet.) “It is thy master, dost thou not remember him?” The man had seen me dress myself in the Pitan’s clothes, but was not present when I had blacked my face and beard in the manner I have described.

“O Bramah, Vishnu, and Mahomet!” cried the faithful fellow, “and do I see my dear master disguised in this way?  For heaven’s sake let me rid you of this odious black paint; for what will the ladies say in the ball-room, if the beautiful Feringhee should appear amongst them with his roses turned into coal?”

I am still one of the finest men in Europe, and at the time of which I write, when only two-and-twenty, I confess I was a little vain of my personal appearance, and not very willing to appear before my dear Belinda disguised like a blackamoor.  I allowed Ghorumsaug to divest me of the heathenish armor and habiliments which I wore; and having, with a world of scrubbing and trouble, divested my face and beard of their black tinge, I put on my own becoming uniform, and hastened to wait on the ladies; hastened, I say,—­although delayed would have been the better word, for the operation of bleaching lasted at least two hours.