ve me to consider of it?"

After a long parley, he allowed me six hours, when I promised to give
him an answer. My mind, however, was made up--as soon as he was gone, I
threw myself on the sofa and fell asleep.

*****

At the end of the six hours the Vizier came back: two people were with
him; one, by his martial appearance, I knew to be Holkar, the other I
did not recognize. It was about midnight.

"Have you considered?" said the Vizier as he came to my couch.

"I have," said I, sitting up,--I could not stand, for my legs were tied,
and my arms fixed in a neat pair of steel handcuffs. "I have," said I,
"unbelieving dogs! I have. Do you think to pervert a Christian gentleman
from his faith and honor? Ruffian blackamoors! do your worst; heap
tortures on this body, they cannot last long. Tear me to pieces: after
you have torn me into a certain number of pieces, I shall not feel it;
and if I did, if each torture could last a life, if each limb were
to feel the agonies of a whole body, what then? I would bear
all--all--all--all--all--ALL!" My breast heaved--my form dilated--my eye
flashed as I spoke these words. "Tyrants!" said I, "dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori." Having thus clinched the argument, I was silent.

The venerable Grand Vizier turned away; I saw a tear trickling down his
cheeks.

"What a constancy," said he. "Oh, that such beauty and such bravery
should be doomed so soon to quit the earth!"

His tall companion only sneered and said, "AND BELINDA--?"

"Ha!" said I, "ruffian, be still!--heaven will protect her spotless
innocence. Holkar, I know thee, and thou knowest ME too! Who, with his
single sword, destroyed thy armies? Who, with his pistol, cleft in twain
thy nose-ring? Who slew thy generals? Who slew thy elephants? Three
hundred mighty beasts went forth to battle: of these I slew one hundred
and thirty-five! Dog, coward, ruffian, tyrant, unbeliever! Gahagan hates
thee, spurns thee, spits on thee!"

Holkar, as I made these uncomplimentary remarks, gave a scream of rage,
and, drawing his scimitar, rushed on to despatch me at once (it was
the very thing I wished for), when the third person sprang forward, and
seizing his arm, cried--

"Papa! oh, save him!" It was Puttee Rooge! "Remember," continued she,
"his misfortunes--remember, oh, remember my--love!"--and here she
blushed, and putting one finger into her mouth, and banging down her
head, looked the very picture of modest affection.

Ho