"By the hundred and eleven incarnations of Vishnu," said I, solemnly,
(an oath which no Indian was ever known to break,) "I swear that so it
is: so at least he told me, and I have good cause to know his power.
Gujputi is an enchanter: he is leagued with devils; he is invulnerable.
Look," said I, unsheathing my dagger--and every eye turned instantly
towards me--"thrice did I stab him with this steel--in the back,
once--twice right through the heart; but he only laughed me to scorn,
and bade me tell Holkar that the steel was not yet forged which was to
inflict an injury upon him."
I never saw a man in such a rage as Holkar was when I gave him this
somewhat imprudent message.
"Ah, lily-livered rogue!" shouted he out to me, "milk-blooded
unbeliever! pale-faced miscreant! lives he after insulting thy master
in thy presence! In the name of the prophet, I spit on thee, defy thee,
abhor thee, degrade thee! Take that, thou liar of the universe! and
that--and that--and that!"
Such are the frightful excesses of barbaric minds! every time this old
man said, "Take that," he flung some article near him at the head of
the undaunted Gahagan--his dagger, his sword, his carbine, his richly
ornamented pistols, his turban covered with jewels, worth a hundred
thousand crores of rupees--finally, his hookah, snake mouthpiece,
silver-bell, chillum and all--which went hissing over my head, and
flattening into a jelly the nose of the Grand Vizier.
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