Tippoo Sultaun: A tale of the Mysore war. Taylor Meadows. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Taylor Meadows
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4064066169077
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last she told him in accents broken by her emotion she was convinced that he was acting wisely, and that her prayers night and day would be for his welfare.

      And her mind once being reconciled to the thought of parting with him, she made every preparation with alacrity. Such few garments as were necessary, and were the best among his not over-abundant stock, were put aside and looked over; and one or two showy handkerchiefs and scarfs which she possessed, with deep gold borders to them, were added to his wardrobe. ‘I shall not want them,’ she said; ‘I am old, and ought not to think of finery.’

      Nor did Kasim neglect his own affairs; having made the communication to his mother, he at once sought the Kurnum, or accountant of the village, and disclosed his intentions to that worthy functionary. Though somewhat surprised at his sudden decision, he did not wonder at its being made; and, as he was a rich man, he liberally tendered a loan of money to enable Kasim to live respectably, until such time as he should receive pay from his new master. He despatched a messenger for his uncle, his mother’s brother, who arrived at night; and early the next morning he had concluded every arrangement for the management of his little property and the care of his mother.

      These matters being arranged to his satisfaction, Kasim sought the Khan with a light heart and sincere pleasure upon his countenance. He found him busied inspecting his horses, and greeted him heartily.

      ‘Well,’ asked the Khan, ‘how fared you with the lady your mother after you left me?’

      ‘Well, excellently well,’ was the reply; ‘she made some opposition at first, but was reasonable in the end.’

      ‘Good! then I have no blame on my head,’ he said laughing; ‘but tell me, when shalt thou be prepared?’

      ‘Now, Khan Sahib, even now am I ready; speak the word, and I attend you at once.’

      10. Rice and pulse boiled together.

      ‘I will go bid her prepare it: and when I have put on some travelling garment better than this, Khan Sahib, and got out my arms, as soon as thou wilt we may be in our saddles. I am already impatient to see the road.’

      The meal was soon despatched by master and servant—the camels loaded—the horses saddled. No one saw the farewell Kasim took of his mother; but it was observed that his cheek was wet when he came out of his house accoutred and armed—a noble figure indeed, and one which drew forth an exclamation of surprise and gratification from the Khan.

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      And in truth, accoutred as he was, and dressed in better clothes than he had hitherto worn, Meer Kasim Ali was one on whom the eye of man could not rest for a moment without admiration, nor that of a woman without love. He wore a dark purple silk vest, bordered round the throat and openings at the chest with broad gold lace and handsome gold pointed buttons; a crimson waistband with a deep gold border was around his loins, in which were stuck several daggers of various forms and very beautifully chased silver handles; and on his shoulder was a broad gold belt or baldric, somewhat tarnished it is true, but still handsome. This supported a long sword, with a half basket-hilt inlaid with gold and lined with crimson velvet; the scabbard was of the same, ornamented and protected at the end by a deep and richly chased ferule. At his back was a shield much covered with gilding and brass bosses.

      11. Ruby.

      ‘I think, with your permission, Khan Sahib, I will mount Yacoot;’ and so saying, he approached him and bounded into the saddle.

      ‘Alla, what a seat!’ cried the Khan in an ecstasy of admiration, after Kasim had mounted, and the horse had made several wonderful bounds: ‘he does not move—no, not a hair’s-breadth! even I should have been disturbed by that. Inshalla! he is a good horseman. Enough, Meer Sahib,’ he cried, ‘enough now; Yacoot is a young beast and a fiery devil, but I think after all he will suit thee better than the other.’

      ‘I think Yacoot and I shall be very good friends when we know each other better,’ said Kasim; ‘but see, the Khanum waits, and the bearers are ready. Put the palankeen close up to the door that it may be more convenient,’ he added to them.

      They obeyed; and in a few moments a figure enveloped from head to foot, but whose tinkling anklets were delicious music in the ears of Kasim, emerged from the threshold of the house, and instantly entered the palankeen. Another followed, and busied herself for a few moments in arranging the interior of the vehicle. This was Kasim’s mother, whose heart, almost too full for utterance, had much difficulty in mustering words sufficient to bid her lovely guest farewell.

      ‘May Alla keep you!’ said the old lady, blinded by her tears; ‘you are young, and proud and beautiful, but you will sometimes think perhaps of the old Patélne. Remember all I have told you of my son; and that as the Khan is a father to him, so you are his mother:—ye have now the care of him, not I. May Alla keep thee! for my old eyes can hardly hope to see thee again;’ and she blessed her.

      ‘Willingly, mother,’ she replied; ‘all that constant solicitude for his welfare can effect, I will do; and while I have life I will remember thee, thy care and kindness. Alla Hafiz! do you too remember Ameena.’

      The old lady had no reply to give; she shut the door of the palankeen with trembling hands—and the bearers, understanding the signal, advanced, raised it to their shoulders, and bore it rapidly forward

      ‘Come,’ cried the Khan, who had mounted; ‘delay not, Kasim.’

      ‘Not a moment—a few last words with my mother, and I follow thee.’

      She was standing at the door; he rode up to her and stooped down from the horse gently. ‘Thy blessing, mother, again,’ he said—‘thy last blessing on thy son.’

      She gave it; and hastily searching for a rupee, she drew a handkerchief from her bosom, and folding it in it, tied it around his arm. ‘My blessing, the blessing of the holy Alla and of the Imaum Zamin be upon thee, my son! May thy footsteps lead thee into happiness—may thy destiny be great! May I again see my son ere I die, that mine eyes may greet him as a warrior, and one that has won fame!’

      ‘I thank thee, mother; but saidst thou aught to her of me?’

      ‘I told her much of thee and of thy temper from thy youth up: it appeared to interest her, and she hath promised to befriend thee.’

      ‘Enough, dear mother! remember my last words—to have the trees I planted looked to and carefully tended, and the tomb protected. Inshalla! I will return to see them grown up, and again be reminded of the spot where I saved her life.’

      And so saying, and not trusting himself to speak to many who would have crowded around him for a last word, the young man turned his horse, and, striking his heels sharply into its flank, the noble animal bounding forward bore him away after his future companions, followed by the blessings and dim and streaming eyes of most who were assembled around the door of his mother’s home.

      The old lady heeded not that her veil had dropped from her face; there was but one object which occupied her vision of the many that were before her eyes, and that was the martial figure of her son as it rapidly disappeared before her. She lost sight of him as he passed