PARALLEL.
The recent great contribution to the history of India, published by Mr
Wheeler,(15) gives a complete insight into this interesting topic;
and this passage of the ancient Sanskrit epic forms one of the most
wonderful and thrilling scenes in that most acceptable publication.
(15) The History of India from the Earliest Ages. By J. Talboys Wheeler.
Vol. I.--The Vedic Period and the Maha Bharata.
As Mr Wheeler observes, the specialties of Hindoo gambling are worthy
of some attention. The passion for play, which has ever been the vice of
warriors in times of peace, becomes a madness amidst the lassitude of a
tropical climate; and more than one Hindoo legend has been preserved
of Rajas playing together for days, until the wretched loser has been
deprived of everything he possessed and reduced to the condition of an
exile or a slave.
But gambling amongst the Hindoos does not appear to have been altogether
dependent upon chance. The ancient Hindoo dice, known by the name of
coupun, are almost precisely similar to the modern dice, being thrown
out of a box; but the practice of loading is plainly alluded to, and
some skill seems to have been occasionally exercised in the rattling of
the dice-box. In the more modern game, known by the name of pasha, the
dice are not cubic, but oblong; and they are thrown from the hand either
direct upon the ground, or against a post or board, which will break the
fall, and render the result more a matter of chance.
The great gambling match of the Hindoo epic was the result of
a conspiracy to ruin Yudhishthira, a successful warrior, the
representative of a mighty family--the Pandavas, who were incessantly
pursued by the envy of the Kauravas, their rivals. The fortunes of the
Pandavas were at the height of human prosperity; and at this point the
universal conception of an avenging Nemesis that humbles the proud and
casts down the mighty, finds full expression in the Hindoo epic. The
grandeur of the Pandavas excited the jealousy of Duryodhana, and revived
the old feud between the Kauravas and the former. Duryodhana plotted
with his brother Duhsasana and his uncle Sakuni, how they might
dispossess the Pandavas of their newly-acquired territory; and at length
they determined to invite their kinsmen to a gambling match, and seek by
underhand means to deprive Yudhishthira of his Raj, or kingdom.(16)
(16) The old Sanskrit words _Raj_, 'kingdom,' and Raja, 'king,' are
evidently the origin of the Latin _reg-num, reg-o, rex, regula_, 'rule,'
&c, reproduced in the words of that ancient language, and continued in
the derivative vernaculars of modern names--_re, rey, roy, roi, regal,
royal, rule_, &c. &c.
It appears from the poem that Yudhishthira was invited to a game at
coupun; and the legend of the great gambling match, which took place at
Hastinapur, is related as follows:
'And it came to pass that Duryodhana was very jealous of the _Rajasuya_
or triumph that his cousin Yudhishthira had performed, and he desired in
his heart to destroy the Pandavas, and gain possession of their Raj. Now
Sakuni was the brother of Gandhari, who was the mother of the Kauravas;
and he was very skilful in throwing dice, and in playing with dice that
were loaded; insomuch that whenever he played he always won the game. So
Duryodhana plotted with his uncle, that Yudhishthira should be invited
to a match at gambling, and that Sakuni should challenge him to a game,
and win all his wealth and lands.
'After this the wicked Duryodhana proposed to his father the Maharaja,
that they should have a great gambling match at Hastinapur, and that
Yudhishthira and his brethren should be invited to the festival. And the
Maharaja was glad in his heart that his sons should be friendly with the
sons of his deceased brother, Pandu; and he sent his younger brother,
Vidura, to the city of Indra-prastha to invite the Pandavas to the game.
And Vidura went his way to the city of the Pandavas, and was received by
them with every sign of attention and respect. And Yudhishthira inquired
whether his kinsfolk and friends at Hastinapur were all well in health,
and Vidura replied, "They are all well." Then Vidura said to the
Pandavas:--"Your uncle, the Maharaja, is about to give a great feast,
and he has sent me to invite you and your mother, and your joint wife,
to come to his city, and there will be a great match at dice-playing."
When Yudhishthira heard these words he was troubled in mind, for he knew
that gaming was a frequent cause of strife, and that he was in no way
skilful in throwing the dice; and he likewise knew that Sakuni
was dwelling at Hastinapur, and that he was a famous gambler. But
Yudhishthira remembered that the invitation of the Maharaja was equal
to the command of a father, and that no true Kshatriya could refuse
a challenge either to war or play. So Yudhishthira accepted the
invitation, and gave commandment that on the appointed day his brethren,
and their mother, and their joint wife should accompany him to the city
of Hastinapur.
'When the day arrived for the departure of the Pandavas they took
their mother Kunti, and their joint wife Draupadi, and journeyed from
Indra-prastha to the city of Hastinapur. And when they entered the city
they first paid a visit of respect to the Maharaja, and they found
him sitting amongst his Chieftains; and the ancient Bhishma, and the
preceptor Drona, and Karna, who was the friend of Duryodhana, and many
others, were sitting there also.
'And when the Pandavas had done reverence to the Maharaja, and
respectfully saluted all present, they paid a visit to their aunt
Gandhari, and did her reverence likewise.
'And after they had done this, their mother and joint wife entered the
presence of Gandhari, and respectfully saluted her; and the wives of
the Kauravas came in and were made known to Kunti and Draupadi. And the
wives of the Kauravas were much surprised when they beheld the beauty
and fine raiment of Draupadi; and they were very jealous of their
kinswoman. And when all their visits had been paid, the Pandavas retired
with their wife and mother to the quarters which had been prepared for
them, and when it was evening they received the visits of all their
friends who were dwelling at Hastinapur.
'Now, on the morrow the gambling match was to be played; so when the
morning had come, the Pandavas bathed and dressed, and left Draupadi in
the lodging which had been prepared for her, and went their way to the
palace. And the Pandavas again paid their respects to their uncle the
Maharaja, and were then conducted to the pavilion where the play was to
be; and Duryodhana went with them, together with all his brethren, and
all the chieftains of the royal house. And when the assembly had all
taken their seats, Sakuni said to Yudhishthira:--"The ground here has
all been prepared, and the dice are all ready: Come now, I pray you, and
play a game." But Yudhishthira was disinclined, and replied:--"I will
not play excepting upon fair terms; but if you will pledge yourself to
throw without artifice or deceit, I will accept your challenge." Sakuni
said,--"If you are so fearful of losing, you had better not play at
all." At these words Yudhishthira was wroth, and replied:--"I have no
fear either in play or war; but let me know with whom I am to play, and
who is to pay me if I win." So Duryodhana came forward and said:--"I am
the man with whom you are to play, and I shall lay any stakes against
your stakes; but my uncle Sakuni will throw the dice for me." Then
Yudhishthira said,--"What manner of game is this, where one man throws
and another lays the stakes?" Nevertheless he accepted the challenge,
and he and Sakuni began to play.
'At this point in the narrative it may be desirable to pause, and
endeavour to obtain a picture of the scene. The so-called pavilion was
probably a temporary booth constructed of bamboos and interlaced with
basket-work; and very likely it was decorated with flowers and leaves
after the Hindoo fashion, and hung with fruits, such as cocoa-nuts,
mangoes, plantains, and maize. The Chieftains present seem to have sat
upon the ground, and watched the game. The stakes may have been pieces
of gold or silver, or cattle, or lands; although, according to the
legendary account which follows, they included articles of a far more
extravagant and imaginative character. With these passing remarks, the
tradition of the memorable game may be resumed as follows:--
'So Yudhishthira and Sakuni sat down to play, and whatever Yudhishthira
laid as stakes, Duryodhana laid something of equal value; but
Yudhishthira lost every game. He first lost a very beautiful pearl; next
a thousand bags, each containing a thousand pieces of gold; next a piece
of gold so pure that it was as soft as wax; next a chariot set with
jewels and hung all round with golden bells; next a thousand war
elephants with golden howdahs set with diamonds; next a lakh of slaves
all dressed in good garments; next a lakh of beautiful slave girls,
adorned from head to foot with golden ornaments; next all the remainder
of his goods; next all his cattle; and then the whole of his Raj,
excepting only the lands which had been granted to the Brahmans.(17)
(17)'A lakh is a hundred thousand, and a crore is a hundred lakhs, or
ten millions. The Hindoo term might therefore have been converted into
English numerals, only that it does not seem certain that the bards
meant precisely a hundred thousand slaves, but only a very large number.
The exceptional clause in favour of the Brahmans is very significant.
When the little settlement at Indra-prastha had been swelled by the
imagination of the later bards into an extensive Raj, the thought may
have entered the minds of the Brahmanical compilers that in losing the
Raj, the Brahmans might have lost those free lands, known as inams
or jagheers, which are frequently granted by pious Rajas for the
subsistence of Brahmans. Hence the insertion of the clause.'
'Now when Yudhishthira had lost his Raj, the Chieftains present in the
pavilion were of opinion that he should cease to play, but he would not
listen to their words, but persisted in the game. And he staked all the
jewels belonging to his brothers, and he lost them; and he staked his
two younger brothers, one after the other, and he lost them; and he then
staked Arjuna, and Bhima, and finally himself; and he lost every game.
Then Sakuni said to him:--"You have done a bad act, Yudhishthira, in
gaming away yourself and becoming a slave. But now, stake your
wife, Draupadi, and if you win the game you will again be free." And
Yudhishthira answered and said:--"I will stake Draupadi!" And all
assembled were greatly troubled and thought evil of Yudhishthira; and
his uncle Vidura put his hand to his head and fainted away, whilst
Bhishma and Drona turned deadly pale, and many of the company were very
sorrowful; but Duryodhana and his brother Duhsasana, and some others of
the Kauravas, were glad in their hearts, and plainly manifested their
joy. Then Sakuni threw the dice, and won Draupadi for Duryodhana.
'Then all in that assembly were in great consternation, and the
Chieftains gazed upon one another without speaking a word. And
Duryodhana said to his uncle Vidura:--"Go now and bring Draupadi hither,
and bid her sweep the rooms." But Vidura cried out against him with a
loud voice, and said:--"What wickedness is this? Will you order a woman
who is of noble birth, and the wife of your own kinsman, to become a
household slave? How can you vex your brethren thus? But Draupadi has
not become your slave; for Yudhishthira lost himself before he staked
his wife, and having first become a slave, he could no longer have power
to stake Draupadi." Vidura then turned to the assembly and said:--"Take
no heed to the words of Duryodhana, for he has lost his senses this
day." Duryodhana then said:--"A curse be upon this Vidura, who will do
nothing that I desire him."
'After this Duryodhana called one of his servants, and desired him to go
to the lodgings of the Pandavas, and bring Draupadi into the pavilion.
And the man departed out, and went to the lodgings of the Pandavas, and
entered the presence of Draupadi, and said to her:--"Raja Yudhishthira
has played you away, and you have become the slave of Raja Duryodhana:
So come now and do your duty like his other slave girls." And
Draupadi was astonished at these words, and exceedingly wroth, and she
replied:--"Whose slave was I that I could be gambled away? And who
is such a senseless fool as to gamble away his own wife?" The servant
said:--"Raja Yudhishthira has lost himself, and his four brothers, and
you also, to Raja Duryodhana, and you cannot make any objection: Arise,
therefore, and go to the house of the Raja!"
'Then Draupadi cried out:--"Go you now and inquire whether Raja
Yudhishthira lost me first or himself first; for if he played away
himself first, he could not stake me." So the man returned to the
assembly, and put the question to Yudhishthira; but Yudhishthira hung
down his head with shame, and answered not a word.
'Then Duryodhana was filled with wrath, and he cried out to his
servant:--"What waste of words is this? Go you and bring Draupadi
hither, that if she has aught to say, she may say it in the presence
of us all." And the man essayed to go, but he beheld the wrathful
countenance of Bhima and he was sore afraid, and he refused to go, and
remained where he was. Then Duryodhana sent his brother Duhsasana; and
Duhsasana went his way to the lodgings of Draupadi and said:--"Raja
Yudhishthira has lost you in play to Raja Duryodhana, and he has sent
for you: So arise now, and wait upon him according to his commands;
and if you have anything to say, you can say it in the presence of the
assembly." Draupadi replied:--"The death of the Kauravas is not far
distant, since they can do such deeds as these." And she rose up in
great trepidation and set out, but when she came near to the palace of
the Maharaja, she turned aside from the pavilion where the Chieftains
were assembled, and ran away with all speed towards the apartments of
the women. And Duhsasana hastened after her, and seized her by her hair,
which was very dark and long, and dragged her by main force into the
pavilion before all the Chieftains.
'And she cried out:--"Take your hands from off me!" But Duhsasana heeded
not her words, and said:--"You are now a slave girl, and slave girls
cannot complain of being touched by the hands of men."
'When the Chieftains thus beheld Draupadi, they hung down their heads
from shame; and Draupadi called upon the elders amongst them, such as
Bhishma and Drona, to acquaint her whether or no Raja Yudhishthira had
gamed away himself before he had staked her; but they likewise held down
their heads and answered not a word.
'Then she cast her eye upon the Pandavas, and her glance was like the
stabbing of a thousand daggers, but they moved not hand or foot to help
her; for when Bhima would have stepped forward to deliver her from the
hands of Duhsasana, Yudhishthira commanded him to forbear, and both he
and the younger Pandavas were obliged to obey the command of their elder
brother.
'And when Duhsasana saw that Draupadi looked towards the Pandavas, he
took her by the hand, and drew her another way, saying:--"Why, O slave,
are you turning your eyes about you?" And when Karna and Sakuni heard
Duhsasana calling her a slave, they cried out:--"Well said! well said!"
'Then Draupadi wept very bitterly, and appealed to all the assembly,
saying:--"All of you have wives and children of your own, and will you
permit me to be treated thus? I ask you one question, and I pray you to
answer it." Duhsasana then broke in and spoke foul language to her, and
used her rudely, so that her veil came off in his hands. And Bhima could
restrain his wrath no longer, and spoke vehemently to Yudhishthira; and
Arjuna reproved him for his anger against his elder brother, but Bhima
answered:--"I will thrust my hands into the fire before these wretches
shall treat my wife in this manner before my eyes."
'Then Duryodhana said to Draupadi:--"Come now, I pray you, and sit
upon my thigh!" And Bhima gnashed his teeth, and cried out with a loud
voice:--"Hear my vow this day! If for this deed I do not break the thigh
of Duryodhana, and drink the blood of Duhsasana, I am not the son of
Kunti!"
'Meanwhile the Chieftain Vidura had left the assembly, and told the
blind Maharaja Dhritarashtra all that had taken place that day; and the
Maharaja ordered his servants to lead him into the pavilion where all
the Chieftains were gathered together. And all present were silent when
they saw the Maharaja, and the Maharaja said to Draupadi:--"O daughter,
my sons have done evil to you this day: But go now, you and your
husbands, to your own Raj, and remember not what has occurred, and let
the memory of this day be blotted out for ever." So the Pandavas
made haste with their wife Draupadi, and departed out of the city of
Hastinapur.
'Then Duryodhana was exceedingly wroth, and he said to his father, "O
Maharaja, is it not a saying that when your enemy hath fallen down,
he should be annihilated without a war? And now that we had thrown the
Pandavas to the earth, and had taken possession of all their wealth, you
have restored them all their strength, and permitted them to depart with
anger in their hearts; and now they will prepare to make war that they
may revenge themselves upon us for all that has been done, and they will
return within a short while and slay us all: Give us leave then, I pray
you, to play another game with these Pandavas, and let the side which
loses go into exile for twelve years; for thus and thus only can a
war be prevented between ourselves and the Pandavas." And the Maharaja
granted the request of his son, and messengers were sent to bring back
the brethren; and the Pandavas obeyed the commands of their uncle,
and returned to his presence; and it was agreed upon that Yudhishthira
should play one game more with Sakuni, and that if Yudhishthira won the
Kauravas were to go into exile, and that if Sakuni won, the Pandavas
were to go into exile; and the exile was to be for twelve years, and one
year more; and during that thirteenth year those who were in exile were
to dwell in any city they pleased, but to keep themselves so concealed
that the others should never discover them; and if the others did
discover them before the thirteenth year was over, then those who were
in exile were to continue so for another thirteen years. So they sat
down again to play, and Sakuni had a set of cheating dice as before, and
with them he won the game.
'When Duhsasana saw that Sakuni had won the game, he danced about for
joy; and he cried out:--"Now is established the Raj of Duryodhana." But
Bhima said, "Be not elated with joy, but remember my words: The day will
come when I will drink your blood, or I am not the son of Kunti." And
the Pandavas, seeing that they had lost, threw off their garments and
put on deer-skins, and prepared to depart into the forest with
their wife and mother, and their priest Dhaumya; but Vidura said to
Yudhishthira:--"Your mother is old and unfitted to travel, so leave her
under my care;" and the Pandavas did so. And the brethren went out from
the assembly hanging down their heads with shame, and covering their
faces with their garments; but Bhima threw out his long arms and looked
at the Kauravas furiously, and Draupadi spread her long black hair over
her face and wept bitterly. And Draupadi vowed a vow, saying:--
'"My hair shall remain dishevelled from this day, until Bhima shall
have slain Duhsasana and drank his blood; and then he shall tie up my
hair again whilst his hands are dripping with the blood of Duhsasana."'
Such was the great gambling match at Hastinapur in the heroic age
of India. It appears there can be little doubt of the truth of the
incident, although the verisimilitude would have been more complete
without the perpetual winning of the cheat Sakuni--which would be
calculated to arouse the suspicion of Yudhishthira, and which could
scarcely be indulged in by a professional cheat, mindful of the
suspicion it would excite.
Throughout the narrative, however, there is a truthfulness to human
nature, and a truthfulness to that particular phase of human nature
which is pre-eminently manifested by a high-minded race in its primitive
stage of civilization.
To our modern minds the main interest of the story begins from the
moment that Draupadi was lost; but it must be remembered that among that
ancient people, where women were chiefly prized on sensual grounds, such
stakes were evidently recognized.
The conduct of Draupadi herself on the occasion shows that she was by
no means unfamiliar with the idea: she protested--not on the ground of
sentiment or matrimonial obligation--but solely on what may be called a
technical point of law, namely, 'Had Yudhishthira become a slave before
he staked his wife upon the last game?' For, of course, having ceased to
be a freeman, he had no right to stake her liberty.
The concluding scene of the drama forms an impressive figure in the mind
of the Hindoo. The terrible figure of Draupadi, as she dishevels her
long black hair, is the very impersonation of revenge; and a Hindoo
audience never fails to shudder at her fearful vow--that the straggling
tresses shall never again be tied up until the day when Bhima shall have
fulfilled his vow, and shall then bind them up whilst his fingers are
still dripping with the blood of Duhsasana.
The avenging battle subsequently ensued. Bhima struck down Duhsasana
with a terrible blow of his mace, saying,--'This day I fulfil my vow
against the man who insulted Draupadi!' Then setting his foot on the
breast of Duhsasana, he drew his sword, and cut off the head of his
enemy; and holding his two hands to catch the blood, he drank it off,
crying out, 'Ho! ho! Never did I taste anything in this world so sweet
as this blood.'
This staking of wives by gamblers is a curious subject. The practice may
be said to have been universal, having furnished cases among civilized
as well as barbarous nations. Of course the Negroes of Africa stake
their wives and children; according to Schouten, a Chinese staked
his wife and children, and lost them; Paschasius Justus states that a
Venetian staked his wife; and not a hundred years ago certain debauchees
at Paris played at dice for the possession of a celebrated courtesan.
But this is an old thing. Hegesilochus, and other rulers of Rhodes,
were accustomed to play at dice for the honour of the most distinguished
ladies of that island--the agreement being that the party who lost had
to bring to the arms of the winner the lady designated by lot to that
indignity.(18)
(18) Athen. lib. XI. cap. xii.
There are traditions of such stakes having been laid and lost by
husbands in _England;_ and a remarkable case of the kind will be found
related in Ainsworth's 'Old Saint Paul's,' as having occurred during the
Plague of London, in the year 1665. There can be little doubt that it is
founded on fact; and the conduct of the English wife, curiously
enough, bears a striking resemblance to that of Draupadi in the Indian
narrative.
A Captain Disbrowe of the king's body-guard lost a large sum of money to
a notorious debauchee, a gambler and bully, named Sir Paul Parravicin.
The latter had made an offensive allusion to the wife of Captain
Disbrowe, after winning his money; and then, picking up the dice-box,
and spreading a large heap of gold on the table, he said to the officer
who anxiously watched his movements:--'I mentioned your wife, Captain
Disbrowe, not with any intention of giving you offence, but to show you
that, although you have lost your money, you have still a valuable stake
left.'
'I do not understand you, Sir Paul,' returned Disbrowe, with a look of
indignant surprise.
'To be plain, then,' replied Parravicin, 'I have won from you two
hundred pounds--all you possess. You are a ruined man, and as such, will
run any hazard to retrieve your losses. I give you a last chance. I will
stake all my winnings--nay, double the amount--against your wife. You
have a key of the house you inhabit, by which you admit yourself at all
hours; so at least I am informed. If I win, that key shall be mine. I
will take my chance of the rest. Do you understand me now?'
'I do,' replied the young man, with concentrated fury. 'I understand
that you are a villain. You have robbed me of my money, and would rob me
of my honour.'
'These are harsh words, sir,' replied the knight calmly; 'but let
them pass. We will play first, and fight afterwards. But you refuse my
challenge?'
'It is false!' replied Disbrowe, fiercely, 'I accept it.' And producing
a key, he threw it on the table. 'My life is, in truth, set on the die,'
he added, with a desperate look; 'for if I lose, I will not survive my
shame.'
'You will not forget our terms,' observed Parravicin. 'I am to be your
representative to-night. You can return home to-morrow.'
'Throw, sir,--throw,' cried the young man, fiercely.
'Pardon me,' replied the knight; 'the first cast is with you. A single
main decides it.'
'Be it so,' returned Disbrowe, seizing the bow. And as he shook the dice
with a frenzied air, the bystanders drew near the table to watch the
result.
'Twelve!' cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box. 'My honour is saved! My
fortune retrieved--Huzza!'
'Not so fast,' returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn. 'You
were a little hasty,' he added, uncovering the dice. 'I am twelve too.
We must throw again.'
'This is to decide,' cried the young officer, rattling the dice,--'Six!'
Parravicin smiled, took the box, and threw _TEN_.
'Perdition!' ejaculated Disbrowe, striking his brow with his clenched
hand. 'What devil tempted me to my undoing?... My wife trusted to this
profligate!... Horror! It must not be!'
'It is too late to retract,' replied Parravicin, taking up the key, and
turning with a triumphant look to his friends.
Disbrowe noticed the smile, and, stung beyond endurance, drew his sword,
and called to the knight to defend himself. In an instant passes were
exchanged. But the conflict was brief. Fortune, as before, declared
herself in favour of Parravicin. He disarmed his assailant, who rushed
out of the room, uttering the wildest ejaculations of rage and despair.
* * * * * * The winner of the key proceeded at once to use. He gained
admittance to the captain's house, and found his way to the chamber
of his wife, who was then in bed. At first mistaken for her husband
Parravicin heard words of tender reproach for his lateness; and then,
declaring himself, he belied her husband, stating that he was false to
her, and had surrendered her to him.
At this announcement Mrs Disbrowe uttered a loud scream, and fell back
in the bed. Parravicin waited for a moment; but not hearing her move,
brought the lamp to see what was the matter. She had fainted, and was
lying across the pillow, with her night-dress partly open, so as to
expose her neck and shoulders. The knight was at first ravished with her
beauty; but his countenance suddenly fell, and an expression of horror
and alarm took possession of it. He appeared rooted to the spot, and
instead of attempting to render her any assistance, remained with his
gaze fixed upon her neck. Rousing himself at length, he rushed out of
the room, hurried down-stairs, and without pausing for a moment, threw
open the street door. As he issued from it his throat was forcibly
griped, and the point of a sword was placed at his breast.
It was the desperate husband, who was waiting to avenge his wife's
honour.
'You are in my power, villain,' cried Disbrowe, 'and shall not escape my
vengeance.'
'You are already avenged,' replied Parravicin, shaking off his
assailant--'_YOUR WIFE HAS THE PLAGUE_.'
The profligate had been scared away by the sight of the 'plague spot' on
the neck of the unfortunate lady.
The husband entered and found his way to his wife's chamber.
Instantaneous explanations ensued. 'He told me you were false--that you
loved another--and had abandoned me,' exclaimed the frantic wife.
'He lied!' shouted Disbrowe, in a voice of uncontrollable fury. 'It is
true that, in a moment of frenzy, I was tempted to set you--yes, _YOU_,
Margaret--against all I had lost at play, and was compelled to yield up
the key of my house to the winner. But I have never been faithless to
you--never.'
'Faithless or not,' replied his wife bitterly, 'it is plain you value me
less than play, or you would not have acted thus.'
'Reproach me not, Margaret,' replied Disbrowe. 'I would give worlds to
undo what I have done.'
'Who shall guard me against the recurrence of such conduct?' said Mrs
Disbrowe, coldly. 'But you have not yet informed me how I was saved!'
Disbrowe averted his head.
'What mean you?' she cried, seizing his arm. 'What has happened? Do not
keep me in suspense? Were you my preserver?'
'Your preserver was the plague,' rejoined Disbrowe, mournfully.
The unfortunate lady then, for the first time, perceived that she was
attacked by the pestilence, and a long and dreadful pause ensued, broken
only by exclamations of anguish from both.
'Disbrowe!' cried Margaret at length, raising herself in bed, 'you have
deeply, irrecoverably injured me. But promise me one thing.'
'I swear to do whatever you may desire,' he replied.
'I know not, after what I have heard, whether you have courage for the
deed,' she continued. 'But I would have you kill this man.'
'I will do it,' replied Disbrowe.
'Nothing but his blood can wipe out the wrong he has done me,' she
rejoined. 'Challenge him to a duel--a mortal duel. If he survives, by my
soul, I will give myself to him.'
'Margaret!' exclaimed Disbrowe.
'I swear it,' she rejoined,' and you know my passionate nature too well
to doubt I will keep my word.'
'But you have the plague!'
'What does that matter? I may recover.'
'Not so,' muttered Disbrowe. 'If I fall, I will take care you do not
recover.... I will fight him to-morrow,' he added aloud.
About noon on the following day Disbrowe proceeded to the Smyrna
Coffee-house, where, as he expected, he found Parravicin and his
companions. The knight instantly advanced towards him, and laying aside
for the moment his reckless air, inquired, with a look of commiseration,
after his wife.
'She is better,' replied Disbrowe, fiercely. 'I am come to settle
accounts with you.'
'I thought they were settled long ago,' returned Parravicin, instantly
resuming his wonted manner. 'But I am glad to find you consider the debt
unpaid.'
Disbrowe lifted the cane he held in his hand, and struck the knight with
it forcibly on the shoulder. 'Be that my answer,' he said.
'I will have your life first, and your wife afterwards,' replied
Parravicin fiercely.
'You shall have her if you slay me, but not otherwise,' retorted
Disbrowe. 'It must be a mortal duel.'
'It must,' replied Parravicin. 'I will not spare you this time. I shall
instantly proceed to the west side of Hyde Park, beneath the trees. I
shall expect you there. On my return I shall call on your wife.'
'I pray you do so, sir,' replied Disbrowe, disdainfully.
Both then quitted the Coffee-house, Parravicin attended by his
companions, and Disbrowe accompanied by a military friend, whom he
accidentally encountered. Each party taking a coach, they soon reached
the ground, a retired spot completely screened from observation by
trees. The preliminaries were soon arranged, for neither would admit of
delay. The conflict then commenced with great fury on both sides; but
Parravicin, in spite of his passion, observed far more caution than his
antagonist; and taking advantage of an unguarded movement, occasioned
by the other's impetuosity, passed his sword through his body. Disbrowe
fell.
'You are again successful,' he groaned, 'but save my wife--save her!'
'What mean you?' cried Parravicin, leaning over him, as he wiped his
sword.
But Disbrowe could make no answer. His utterance was choked by a sudden
effusion of blood on the lungs, and he instantly expired.
Leaving the body in care of the second, Parravicin and his friends
returned to the coach, his friends congratulating him on the issue of
the conflict; but the knight looked grave, and pondered upon the words
of the dying man. After a time, however, he recovered his spirits, and
dined with his friends at the Smyrna; but they observed that he drank
more deeply than usual. His excesses did not, however, prevent him from
playing with his usual skill, and he won a large sum from one of his
companions at Hazard.
Flushed with success, and heated with wine, he walked up to Disbrowe's
residence about an hour after midnight. As he approached the house, he
observed a strangely-shaped cart at the door, and, halting for a moment,
saw a body, wrapped in a shroud, brought out. Could it be Mrs Disbrowe?
Rushing forward to one of the assistants in black cloaks, he asked whom
he was about to inter.
'It is a Mrs Disbrowe,' replied the coffin-maker. 'She died of grief,
because her husband was killed this morning in a duel; but as she had
the plague, it must be put down to that. We are not particular in such
matters, and shall bury her and her husband together; and as there is no
money left to pay for coffins, they must go to the grave without them.'
And as the body of his victim also was brought forth, Parravicin fell
against the wall in a state of stupefaction. At this moment, Solomon
Eagle, the weird plague-prophet, with his burning brazier on his head,
suddenly turned the corner of the street, and, stationing himself before
the dead-cart, cried in a voice of thunder--'Woe to the libertine! Woe
to the homicide! for he shall perish in everlasting fire! Woe! woe!'
Such is this English legend, as related by Ainsworth, but which I have
condensed into its main elements. I think it bids fair to equal in
interest that of the Hindoo epic; and if it be not true in every
particular, so much the better for the sake of human nature.