Chapter XIX

At the end of the street, there advanced before me a damsel, with
a fairy’s cheeks, who, in the manner of a pagan, wore her tresses
dishevelled over her shoulder, like the sacerdotal stole. I said,
“O thou! to the arch of whose eye-brow the new moon is a slave,
what quarter is this, and where is thy mansion?”

ISMAT.

Selim, on returning to his apartments in the palace, sought his couch in vain, after the scene of that fatal night. Sleep was, indeed, unsolicited by him, for he preferred repeating to himself the songs which Nourmahal, as he thenceforth styled her, had sung, representing over and over again, to his heated fancy, the attitudes of the maid, and retracing in his memory the lines of her matchless and now deeply-beloved countenance. The report of her having been betrothed to Shere Afkun rose occasionally upon his mind, like a dense stormy cloud, that seemed about to blight all the prospects of happiness which he had already entertained. But he flattered himself with the hope that the rumours, which had been circulated on this subject, were void of foundation. It was impossible, he thought, that she could love Afkun, since, while he was far away, she betrayed no depression of spirits. To judge by himself, now that he was no longer in Nourmahal’s company, he felt that he was the most miserable being in the world. Would she not have mentioned him sometimes,--would she not have subdued the expression of her enchanting powers,--would she have sung or danced so divinely, if, indeed, she had been labouring under the grief that must have been caused by his absence, had he been truly present to her heart?

The day, as it dawned, into his chamber found Selim still feverishly busy in forming projects for his union with Nourmahal, let what would be the consequence. What! even if she had been pledged to Afkun, such a ceremony was not irrevocable. His father, the emperor of Hindostan, whose voice gave law to more than a hundred millions of people, might surely dispense with the obligations, if any there were, imposed on either party by a proceeding of that nature. He would throw himself at Acbar’s feet, and solicit from him this boon, upon which his very life now depended. He would frankly reveal the state of his feelings with respect to Nourmahal; he would represent the disastrous effect which her union with another would probably produce with respect to all parties; he might throw a little exaggeration round the degrees of encouragement which he believed he had already received from her,--he would mention the bouquet,--the look with which that emblematic expression of affection had been received by her,--he would promise an entire reform in those habits of intoxication which had afforded so much displeasure to his father, and such scandal to the court; and he would, if it were required, even abdicate the reins of empire in favour of his son Chusero, provided only that he were permitted to spend the remainder of his days with her, who had now obtained entire possession of his soul.

Bochari waited at the usual hour on the prince, whom he found still arrayed in the dress of purple satin, and gold turban, which he had worn the night before.

“I am glad you have come at last, my dear Bochari. I wish you would go to the apartments of the emperor, and learn whether I can see him immediately.”

“Not in this dress, at all events; at such an hour of the morning, he will think you mad if you appear before him in this manner.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at your turban, your satin vest, your cincture with these massive tassels, your robe of silver tissue, and your silk stockings flowered with gold; nay, you have not even changed your slippers since we parted last night;--what can be the cause of all this?”

“I shall tell the emperor every thing.”

“What! you will tell the emperor every thing? Am I, then, no longer worthy of your confidence? But I can easily understand it all. I see you have not slept much during the night. You seem scarcely to know what you say.”

“Yes, Bochari, I well know what I say,--and what I feel, too. If you, however, refuse me your assistance on the present occasion, I shall not know what to do. You are my best of friends; you will, I am sure, aid me with your inexhaustible resources on the present occasion,--perhaps the most important of my life.”

“You surely cannot think of marrying Mher-Ul-Nissa!”

“Why not?”

“I thought I was not deceived; I knew all this last night,--when that faithless and artful woman threw off her veil so indecently in your presence,--in the presence of a crowd of guests.”

“What words are these Bochari? Faithless, did you say? To whom?”

“To her betrothed husband, the subah of Cashmere! Is it possible you did not feel, what every other person in the saloon must have felt, that Mher-Ul-Nissa, though her faith was solemnly plighted to Afkun, put forth all her powers last night, in order to involve you in her dangerous toils?”

“But how am I to know that she has been betrothed as you say?”

“I heard it from Kazim Ayas; and in order to assure myself on that point, out of mere curiosity, for it never occurred to me that you would feel any interest in the question, I ascertained the fact from the kadi, in whose presence the ceremony was solemnised.”

“Base wretch! away from my presence for ever! No! you will never make me believe that Nourmahal has promised to be the consort of another!”

“I shall go hence as you desire, although this is not the treatment which I had expected, after so many years of faithful service!”

“No, no--stay Bochari--I am half mad--forgive me--stay--yes--we have been children together.”

“But we are not to remain children for ever. You are now a man; though I can hardly call you such, if you thus suffer your feelings to be mastered by a woman, who, if she were married to you to-day, would probably elope with some other lover before the dawn to-morrow.”

“Oh! Bochari, spare my feelings at this moment; do not thus speak of Nourmahal. She cannot be the wretch you would represent her.”

“Judge for yourself. She is bound by ties of an indissoluble nature, to Afkun. During his absence, caused, as we all know, by circumstances which he could not control, she appears before a crowd of her father’s guests--she sings--she dances--and when she thinks she has excited the feelings of another person--of the Prince Selim--to the highest degree, she, as if by accident, lets her veil fall at his feet, and completes her conquest! What security can you have for the affections of such a woman as this? Think you she loves you for yourself? Not she--the throne is the sole object of her ambition; give up that, and you will soon find her turning from you with scorn.”

The prince, who was already pale from the sleepless night he had spent, trembled from head to foot, while Bochari uttered these unguarded phrases, foaming with undisguised mortification.

“Give way to such childish feelings as these!” resumed the stern monitor, in a tone to which his pupil was wholly unaccustomed, “and you will be the laughing stock of the whole empire. Every adventurer, who has a pretty daughter in his family, will come to Agra and place her in the way of Selim, as an instrument of fortune. Abandoning the faithful mothers of your children already in the harem, you will be tossed about and played with like a shuttle-cock from hand to hand. The cares of state will be forgotten; you will give yourself up entirely to the blandishments of women; you will surrender successively to their fathers or brothers the sceptre which you ought yourself to grasp with a firm hand; and ultimately, perhaps, you will be assassinated, in order to make room for some upstart, whom you have yourself raised to high station; and then Hindostan, now the most splendid empire in the world, will fall into a thousand petty provinces! For shame--let us hear no more of this baseborn girl!”

“She is the daughter of Kazim Ayas, the high treasurer of the empire; a man universally respected, and I may even say, beloved. Be just, at all events, in your anger!”

“And who is this Kazim Ayas, I should like to know? Ha! ha! ha! true; high treasurer now; but what _was_ he, when he first made his way from the wilds of Tartary to Lahore? It is notorious that he was obliged to beg for bread from door to door; and that he earned a miserable pittance, for many years, by writing in a stall for any person who chose to give him a cowrie! Kazim Ayas, indeed, beloved and respected! By whom? Not by me, certainly; for, after the events of last night, seeing that he did not prevent his daughter from pursuing the indecent exhibition which she made, I can look upon him as no better than a common pander!”

Selim was shocked, beyond expression, at the language which Bochari used, with regard to a family so much honoured by his father, and so highly esteemed by the Omrahs of the court, without exception. Bochari soon perceived, by the silence of the prince, who continued for some time to look at him with astonishment, that he had rather overshot the mark at which he aimed. He knew thoroughly the character of the person he had to deal with, and was especially aware of the obstinacy with which the prince adhered to any purpose, which he could not be wheedled or frightened out of in the first instance.

“I see then, Bochari,” said Selim, after a long pause; “that I am not to expect any assistance from you in this business.”

“Your highness will, I am sure, excuse any hastiness of expression into which I may have been betrayed, by my zeal for your welfare. Your happiness is, you must know, the only object of my life. I have been by your side from boyhood upwards; it is not likely that I should abandon you now. Your command must ever be my law.”

“That is spoken like yourself, Bochari; I own I hardly knew, just now, who you were. You never before opposed any of my wishes after such a fashion as this.”

“Nor shall I now, if you think I can render you the slightest assistance.”

“I have, as you know, Bochari, seen and added to my harem some of the most perfect beauties of whom Asia can boast. I was no more than fifteen, when I first beheld the daughter of the Rajah Bharmul, whom I then looked upon as the rose of the world. She is the mother of Chusero, and still preserves my esteem. The lovely Jamaul, the mother of my favourite boy, Parveiz, has also a peculiar place in my heart. Her moon-like beauty has fresh charms for me every time I visit her apartments. I am also affected with great tenderness whenever I take my son, Khorroum, from the arms of his mother Gosseine. Some things have been foretold me of this boy, which induce me to hope that he will be ever affectionate and faithful to me, and that one day he will be the ornament of the empire. But neither the daughter of Bharmul, nor the gentle Jamaul, nor Gosseine, nor even Beiby Karmitty, the youngest, and perhaps the most engaging of all my wives, has ever excited in my breast feelings similar to those which have been kindled there by Nourmahal.”

“There is no contending against fate! It is a power capable of doing with us as it chooses.”

“That is precisely what I think too, my dear Bochari. I am convinced, that if I now endeavoured not to love Nourmahal, I should fail of success. Her image never left me all night. Sometimes she appeared stooping over me, her beauteous eyes dimmed with tears, lamenting the precipitation with which she received the addresses of Afkun, before she had become acquainted with the secret which I revealed to her last-night--that I was her captive! Sometimes that voice, which you have heard, floated in the air around me, while her fingers played like beams of rosy light over the strings of her lute. But you have seen her in that Vishnu dance.--Can you wonder that when her veil fell off, I should have been transported beyond all the common bounds of prudence?”

“But how are you to get over the contract so solemnly entered into?”

“It must be dissolved, Bochari. Mark me,--it must be put an end to, by some means or other.”

“The emperor might perhaps consent--but then there is his prime minister, Fazeel,”----

“Name him not----you know that that man is my abhorrence.”

“What with his outlandish notions about the principles of justice--and setting an example of rectitude to the people--and all that kind of nonsensical philosophy, if once he be consulted on the subject, you may look upon the matter as decided against you.”

“And if it be,”----

“We must then think of other means for the attainment of your purpose--Afkun is subah of Cashmere.--He will probably return soon to Agra, to have his nuptials completed--the road is long--a few Afghans, well stationed, disposed to vindicate your cause”----

“Let us spare _his_ blood, if we can. As to Fazeel--he and I never can live long under the same sky. His presence is to me the shade of the poison tree. I feel as if I begin to wither whenever I come within its range.”

“Then you must smile upon him henceforth. There is nothing like a luminous smile for deceiving your enemy--or, at least the court, when they behold you together.”

“Depend upon me--you must have heard of that insolent proposal of his, for excluding me from the succession to the throne, and of transferring my rights to Chusero!”

“Under the pretext of insanity! But, hark!--the trumpets already announce the breaking up of the Am-kas! Something has occurred to the emperor! It is but just now that the gates of the citadel were thrown open to admit the multitude, and already the assembly is broken up! What can this mean?”

Selim trembled, as he directed his companion to go instantly and inquire into the cause of this extraordinary occurrence, for he knew that nothing but illness of a serious character, or affairs of the utmost importance, would prevent his father from taking his seat upon the throne, and discharging the duties of the audience which he gave every morning to all his vassals, without distinction. Bochari hastened to the apartments of the emperor, but was met by an eunuch, as breathless as himself, who asked where the prince was to be found.

“What has happened?” eagerly enquired Bochari.

“The prince--the prince--where is he?” asked the eunuch--“The emperor, as he was ascending the musnud, fell back on the steps, before any of us could reach him--he still lives--we bore him to his cabinet--he has just spoken, and calls incessantly for the prince--lead me to him without delay.”

Bochari returned with the eunuch to Selim’s apartment, who was deeply afflicted by the intelligence; for, through all the courses of dissipation to which he had been habituated, he still felt a strong sentiment of affection for his father. Forthwith changing his apparel, he went to the cabinet, where he found the emperor surrounded by his principal ministers, resting on cushions, suffering much from the debility of declining years, but more from the tidings which he had just received, of the death of his favourite son, Daniel.

“Take these despatches, Selim,” said Acbar, in a feeble voice, frequently interrupted by the pangs of his heart, against which he had no longer sufficient fortitude to struggle. “Take these despatches, my son--read them with due attention. Daniel--my beloved Daniel--beloved, even though, with all my efforts I could not reclaim him from those terrible vices, to which he has thus prematurely fallen a victim--is no more. Oh! Selim, shall his example--his fate--warn you in time?”

The prince was on his knees, bathed in tears, holding the emperor’s hand, which he pressed and kissed repeatedly, in token of his entire submission to his father’s will.