ne-cup
has NO TONGUE, O Khanum Gee!" and again I dipped my nose in the
soul-refreshing jar.

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. Heath, for the next "Book of Beauty."

"Wretch!" said she, "what wouldst thou?"

"You black-faced fiend," said I, "raise but your voice, and you are
dead!"

"And afterwards," said she, "do you suppose that YOU can escape? The
torments of hell are not so terrible as the tortures that Holkar will
invent for thee."

"Tortures, madam?" answered I, coolly. "Fiddlesticks! You will neither
betray me, nor will I be put to the torture: on the contrary, you will
give me your best jewels and facilitate my escape to the fort. Don't
grind your teeth and swear at me. Listen, madam : you know this
dress and these arms;--they are the arms of your husband, Bobbachy
Bahawder--MY PRISONER. He now lies in yonder fort, and if I do not
return before daylight, at SUNRISE HE DI