"Well," said I, "we shall only be too glad to lay our nuzzurs at the feet of this patron of yours, and no doubt we shall see in him a pattern of noblemen, a specimen of what we may expect to see at the capital of the Dukhun. When may we hope to be admitted to the presence?"
"In the evening, after prayers," replied our acquaintance; "it is then that justice is dispensed to these poor unbelieving cultivators, and the durbar is enlivened by the presence and heavenly music of a set of dancing-women, whom my lord has brought with him from the city."
"We will come," said I; "and I pray you to give your lord notice that we have accepted your invitation to visit him; nay, that we are desirous of paying our respects to him."
As I finished speaking, an elderly man of decent appearance had entered the Chowree; he was a Hindoo, and looked like a merchant. He demanded, in rather a peremptory tone, a place to rest in, declaring, that if he did not get it immediately, he would go and complain to the ruler of the town. The spirit of the old kotwal seemed to be roused by the man's behaviour, and he declared in round terms that he would not give a foot of ground, or an empty shop, without he was civilly asked.
"Look you, gentlemen," said he to us; "I ask you to decide between us; I swear by the Prophet, I care no more than a snap of my fingers for him; I have seen twenty thousand better; and if he goes to complain, why let him go; he will be driven from the presence with stripes. People like him come in hundreds every day, and who can trouble themselves in looking after them?"
"You and your master may be the portion of the devil," said the old merchant; "ever since I have entered the territories of the Nizam, I have been treated in this manner. But it is only what I have heard before; not a night have I passed without an alarm of thieves; and God knows, if I had any protection, I would rather lie outside your wretched walls, than in the zenana of your amil himself. Your bunneas are rascals: I am refused grain at nearly double the price I paid yesterday; I am refused shelter at night. In God's name, what am I to do? Gentlemen," cried he to us, "what am I to do?"
Bhudrinath answered, as I was going to speak, and, to my astonishment, angrily. "What would you have? O discontented man! I suppose some place has been offered to you, and you have thought it not good enough; or are you drunk with opium? or has hunger after your journey spoilt your temper? Go, betake yourself to the bazar; be thankful that you can get any place; and, if no one will shelter you, lie in the street; bethink yourself that many a better man has done so before you."
The man stood aghast: he looked first at us, then at the kotwal and his men, while expressions of delight at his discomfiture ran through the kotwal's party: "Well said!" "Proper fellows!" "He ought to be turned out of the village," &c. At last, without saying a word, he threw down his turban and ran out, bellowing as loud as he could. We all burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
"That is a queer fellow," said I to the kotwal; "I doubt not you have often such to plague you; but send for him back, we will make him ashamed of himself, and I will beg you to give him a place to stay in."
"As you will," replied he; "but for your intercession I should not have troubled myself about him. Many such have I to deal with. One day a fellow comes swearing he is cheated by every one; another, that he can get nothing to eat, when perhaps both are too stingy to buy; another, that he has no shelter, when he will not pay the trifle demanded by the bunnea for the use of his shop. Again, a third must have every delicacy to be found in a city, and he is furious because he cannot get them; when, if they were all before him, he could not afford to buy one. In short, sirs, there is no end to the fancies, foolishnesses, and, I may say, tyranny, of travellers, and who think me, I suppose, to possess superhuman power, and to have jins (genii) at my command, to bring them whatever their foolish ideas may desire."
"You have indeed no easy situation, and to please every one is impossible," said I; "but here comes the merchant,"—and he entered.
"Take up your turban, good fellow," said the kotwal, "and do not be angry; you are no child to be quarrelling with decent people. Have you never travelled before, that you should be angry and throw dust on our beards in this manner? In God's name, take up your turban; and do some one of you go and see that the good man gets a place for himself."
The man looked irresolute for an instant, then took up the turban, and walked sulkily out, accompanied by the person desired to attend him. Bhudrinath gave me a sign, and we took our leave. We had scarcely got out, when he said, "That man is ours; now see how I will manage him. I dare say he has but few persons with him, and he will be easily disposed of."
We kept our eye on him and his attendant, and watched him take possession of a shed of wretched appearance, with many symptoms of dissatisfaction. We loitered purposely, till we saw that he was alone, and then went up to him.
"Ram! Ram! Séthjee," said Bhudrinath, addressing him; "what a place is this they have put you into after all, not fit for hogs to lie in! That rascally kotwal, for all his smooth tongue, is an arrant knave, I warrant; and I have heard," continued he, lowering his voice, "that he has in his employ a number of thieves, whose business it is to cut away travellers' saddle-bags from under their heads at night, and when the poor man goes to complain in the morning, he is beaten out of the village. Did we not hear so, Jemadar Sahib?"
"Yes, indeed," said I; "don't you remember the man who met us at the village some coss from this, and warned us of the thieves of Oomerkhér, and said he had been robbed of everything he possessed, and then driven out with scarcely a rag to cover him? It was then that I determined to encamp outside, where we might have our own sentinels, and where, if we were robbed, it would be our own fault."
"God help me! I am a lost man!" cried the merchant; "I know not what to do;" and he beat his head with his clenched hand. "In those bags is all I am worth in the world; I fled from Surat to save myself from oppression, and it appears that the further I fly the worse usage I meet. It was only two nights ago—after watching till my eyes nearly started from my head from want of sleep, and, not being able to sit longer, I lay down and my eyes closed—that an attempt was made to cut my bags from under me; and, as I awoke, the thieves snatched away two of my cooking utensils and the cloth I had about me. What could I do? Had I run after them, some fellow would have been off with my bags; so I sat still, and screamed for help. The villagers were soon assembled about me, and when I told them what had happened, a villain, who called himself the patel, abused me for defaming his village; and I was actually thrust without the gates, and left to pursue my way in the dark, in momentary dread that I should be pursued, and perhaps robbed and murdered. Oh, my unhappy fate!" cried he; "what will it not lead me to! Fool that I was to leave my own country, to become the sport of unblessed brutes, such as I have met in this wild country."
"Well," said Bhudrinath in a compassionate tone, "you have been used very ill, and you ought to go and complain to the Hakim here; report says he is a just man, although those under him may be thieves and rascals."
"No, no, no!" cried the man; "go and complain! and be fleeced of my last rupee! The great man would require a nuzzur, and every dependent would ask for one; did I dare to refuse, my situation would be worse than it is now. No, no! I have not been robbed as yet, and please God, if I could only get out of this town, I would attach myself to some party of respectable persons going the same road."
Bhudrinath turned to me, and took me a few paces aside. "The bait has taken," said he; "our net is now around him; you must draw it tightly."
"How?"——"By inviting him to our encampment; I will propose it, and you shall pretend to disagree at first, and then, after some persuasion, consent. Do you understand?"
"I do," and we turned back.
Bhudrinath again addressed him, while I turned away. "Séthjee," said he, "you are a man in misfortune, and if we don't help you out of this place you will assuredly be robbed of everything you possess. You must come and put up in our encampment; that is to say, if the Jemadar Sahib will permit it: but