u, cousin," says Rupert, who was able to keep his temper now
that he had the better of me. "I am glad to learn that you will not
seek to undermine my credit with his Highness. But now, if you are
sufficiently rested, let us proceed."

Speaking these mocking words, he made his men bind my wrists together
with a cord, and conducted me out of the streets of the town towards
Surajah Dowlah's camp.

The tent of the Nabob was a fine great pavilion of yellow and crimson
cloth. All about the entrance stood his guards, very handsomely
dressed, with silver and gold ornaments, and armed with all sorts of
curious weapons, some of which I had not seen before. Inside, when we
were presently admitted, the spectacle was still more striking. The
Nabob sat on a high cushion, called the musnud, placed on a dais
which was raised several feet above the ground. On the dais beside him
stood three of his principal courtiers, in silk robes and turbans
incrusted with gems, while others of inferior rank stood below the
steps of the dais. A slave beat the air with a fan of peacock's
feathers over the Nabob's head.

I gazed with great curiosity and awe upon this young prince, who was
now making his name terrible through Bengal. I was amazed to see that
he was extremely young, scarce older than myself, with a face, I
think, the handsomest of any Indian's I ever saw: yet his face was
marred, and his youthfulness made unnatural by the ugly traces of his
passions. His skin appeared coarse and blotched, his lips were thick
and purple-coloured, and his teeth--an unusual thing among Moors--very
black and dirty, when he spoke. He lay back somewhat on his throne,
with his chin leaning on his breast and his heavy eyes turned to the
ground. In spite of the waving of the fan, the heat seemed to oppress
him; or else it was the weight of his turban, for he passed his hand
over his brow every now and then as if he would have lifted it off.
His fingers, I noticed, were much encumbered with rings, besides which
he wore bracelets, and ear-rings in his ears. But when he lifted his
eyes from the floor and looked at me, I was appalled by the expression
in them, which was not that of common ferocity, but rather dreadful
despair, like a lost soul that is goaded on to assuage its own pangs
by the torture of others.

"Who is this dog?" he asked in a husky, soddened tone, as I was
brought up to the foot of his dais.

"It is one of the ungrateful wretches who have dare