The sweet Puttee Rooge was not, however, to be put off by my repartees;
she and her maidens recommenced their chorus, and chattered and stormed
until I lost all patience.
"Retire, friends," said I, "and leave me in peace."
"Stir, on your peril!" cried the Khanum.
So, seeing there was no help for it but violence, I drew out my pistols,
cocked them, and said, "O houris! these pistols contain each two balls:
the daughter of Holkar bears a sacred life for me--but for you!--by all
the saints of Hindustan, four of ye shall die if ye stay a moment longer
in my presence!" This was enough; the ladies gave a shriek, and skurried
out of the apartment like a covey of partridges on the wing.
Now, then, was the time for action. My wife, or rather Bobbachy's wife,
sat still, a little flurried by the unusual ferocity which her lord had
displayed in her presence. I seized her hand and, gripping it close,
whispered in her ear, to which I put the other pistol:--"O Khanum,
listen and scream not; the moment you scream, you die!" She was
completely beaten: she turned as pale as a woman could in her situation,
and said, "Speak, Bobbachy Bahawder, I am dumb."
"Woman," said I, taking off my helmet, and removing the chain cape which
had covered almost the whole of my face--"I AM NOT THY HUSBAND--I am the
slaver of elephants, the world renowned GAHAGAN!"
As I said this, and as the long ringlets of red hair fell over my
shoulders (contrasting strangely with my dyed face and beard), I
formed one of the finest pictures that can possibly be conceived, and I
recommend it as a subject to Mr.
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