A MEETING.
Day after day had gone past in utter monotony till Denzil's heart
began to ache in the great weariness of the life he led; it was so
calm and seemed so still after the fierce and keen excitement he had
undergone. Had he entered upon a new state of existence? he asked of
himself; if so, it was an intensely stupid one.
One evening when seated as usual on the divan at his window, looking
dreamily out upon the long vista of the green valley, and the conical
hill that terminated it, dim and blue in distance, he was feeling the
balmy breath of the spring breeze with pleasure, and with all an
invalid's relish was watching the young buds expanding, and the first
flowers of the season beginning to peep from the teeming soil, when
the Nazir, or steward of the household, a tall man of venerable
aspect, whose beard flowed to his girdle, and the middle of whose
head was shaved, came with an invitation from the Khan, to join him
and his family at their evening meal.
Denzil bowed his acceptance, and in his sorely worn uniform, made
what toilette he hastily could, for a Khan like the head of the
Kuzzilbashes, who could bring into the field five thousand well-armed
men, chiefly splendidly mounted cavalry, was assuredly a man of
considerable note and power in the land, and his favour or protection
were of some value in that far-away corner of the world.
In an apartment, the walls of which were prettily decorated by
painted and gilded arabesques, with passages from the Koran around
it, in lieu of a cornice, he found the Khan sitting on a musnud, or
species of cushioned seat, that is usually reserved for persons of
distinction. A lady was seated by his side, and both were so intent
upon a game of chess, that neither looked up when Denzil entered.
Seated on the floor, but on rich carpets, were the wife of the Khan,
a woman of some forty years old, very sallow and _passée_, her long
camise of green. Cabul silk, ornamented with golden crescents sewn
on; her hair, as yet untinged with grey, arranged in countless
plaits, her hands odiously reddened to the hue of coral, and her two
daughters, passably pretty women, with their hair loose and their
trousers white, in token of being unmarried, and all three wearing
many chains of gold and strings of Venetian sequins.
Denzil bowed low, and paused irresolutely, waiting to be greeted by
the Khan; but that personage was bending over the board deeply intent
on the game, his long white beard floating above the ivory chessmen,
his bushy brows and wrinkled forehead full of thought, his brown and
thick-veined hands contrasting strongly with the slender snow-white
fingers of his opponent, whose hand was indeed a delicate and lovely
one; her face, however, was concealed by her position, and the mode
in which she wore her veil; and Denzil knew the peril of seeming too
curious.
Like those of the other three ladies, her dress was of the finest
Cabul silk, but of a rose colour, and covered her whole figure, as a
night-robe would have done; like the Khan's daughters, her trousers
were also white, her slippers high-heeled and shod with iron.
Crescents of silver were sewn over all her loose hanging sleeves, and
the breast of her dress was literally a mass of them, so that it
shone in the sunlight like a cuirass.
The wife of the Khan clapped her hands, the ordinary mode of
summoning attendants in the East, as she wished the trays with
refreshments introduced. This caused Shireen and his companion to
look round, and an exclamation of profound astonishment, in which joy
and something of deep anxiety mingled, echoed through the apartment,
when Denzil and Rose--Rose Trecarrel--recognised each other!
On this, one of the Khan's daughters hastily assumed, but for a few
minutes only, her _bourkha_ or veil of white muslin, which had a
space of open network for the eyes; and the other whispered to her
mother some indignant remark concerning "the effrontery of a Kaffir
coming into their presence with his jorabs (_i.e._, shoes) on."
If it be true that "among a crowd of total strangers an acquaintance
ranks as a friend," how great must have been the emotions of the
volatile Rose, on meeting her avowed lover among those odious and
horrible Afghans!
"Rose!"
"Denzil!"
After all they had mutually undergone, the sound of their own names
and their own language, had in them so much of home and the past,
that both were deeply moved; and heedless of those who were present,
forgetting all about them in fact, the impulsive girl flung herself
into his arms, and he pressed her to his breast. So, to the
undemonstrative Orientals, they formed a very unexpected tableau.
She had undergone so much and her agitations were so complicated,
that for some time she was quite incapable of speech and could only
sob hysterically. She was very pale and worn, but he was so too.
"So you also are a prisoner--do you forgive me now, Denzil?" she
asked in a low voice.
"Forgive you--oh Rose, I could die for you!" he responded,
passionately.
How often in the visions of the night and in the reveries of the
day--those trances of thought to which all at times abandon
themselves--had Denzil pictured to himself Rose Trecarrel reclining
in his arms, even as on that day by the lake, Rose so bright, so fair
and beautiful, and now he held her in reality!
But though she had deceived him once and might do so again, no such
fear occurred to him then, and forgotten too were all the bantering
remarks of Polwhele and Burgoyne (now, alas, no more) which had
excited so much pique, jealousy, and fury in his heart. She was, he
knew, so lonely in the world, and she looked so lovely and so
helpless. After a time, she said, anxiously,
"There has been great slaughter, I have heard; poor Papa, he has
escaped I am sure, and dear Mab and Waller are safe, and all the
rest?"
"_All_ cannot have escaped!" was Denzil's vague response; "yet you
have done so, and that is enough for me, darling."
She now poured upon him questions, some of which he dreaded to
answer. When and where was he taken prisoner? Whom of those she
loved had he seen last? Of her father, of Mabel and Waller Denzil
professed total ignorance. He only knew that the body of the poor
General had disappeared, and of subsequent events he knew nothing
save that many ladies and officers of rank were retained in Cabul,
held there by Ackbar Khan, as hostages for the future evacuation of
Jellalabad; so hope and lightness of heart began to dawn on Rose, for
neither she nor Denzil were aware of the exact state of matters, or
of all the calamities that had befallen their friends.
"And Mabel--dear, dear, Mabel," she exclaimed in a touching voice,
"how often do I dream of her, and fancy at times that I feel her
cheek, wet with tears, against mine; for though but a little older
than I, she has ever been as a mother to me, and these visions are
passages of intense emotion, Denzil. Our mamma, who died so long
ago, comes to me in my sleep and poor papa too, looking just as when
I kissed him last, ere we went to rest, in that wretched tent in the
snowy Pass; so my heart is wrung with suffering and I shed tears,
Denzil--hot salt tears in my sleep--I, who used to be so merry and
thoughtless!"
The Khan and his family were, for the time, utterly forgotten; so was
his game of chess, and he gazed alternately from the rooks, pawns,
and castles, to the lovers, in great and grave bewilderment, for in
the _empressement_ of their meeting, there seemed something more than
the mere joy of two friends, or natives of the same country
recognising each other. Were they brother and sister, or husband and
wife, or what?
"But how came you to be here--what happened?" asked Denzil.
Her story, with all its apparent mystery, was both short and simple.
She had heard shots in the night, and was peeping from the door of
the tent, while her weary companions slept. A crowd of Afghans were
passing,--the Shah's 6th Regiment were deserting _en masse_. A
_loonghee_, or turban-cloth, was cast over her face by one of them,
who twisted it across her mouth in such a manner as to stifle her
cries completely; a havildar, mounted on a stolen horse, dragged her
up beside him, and thus she was borne off, unseen in the dark, as
they evidently believed that a white woman would be deemed the most
valuable species of loot by some wealthy Khan or Nawab. When day
broke they found themselves among the Black Rocks, near Cabul, and
then a vehement dispute ensued between the havildar and her first
captor as to to whom she should belong--whether they should keep,
sell, or cast lots for her. Knives were promptly drawn; but some
Kuzzilbash Horse came up and solved the difficulty by sabreing them
both. They then carried her off to the fort of Shireen Khan, who had
treated her with marked kindness and hospitality; and now she and
Denzil turned towards him, and the latter expressed his extreme
gratitude for all he had done for them both, adding, that he hoped
they would be mercifully permitted to rejoin their friends and people.
But Khan Shireen shook his head, and replied, "Sahib, you know not
what you ask, or how your friends are situated. Your army has been
destroyed on its downward march to Jellalabad, and the hope of Ackbar
is, that if the Sirdir Sale quits that city for Peshawur, the wild
Khyberees and Ghilzies will soon annihilate his army too."
And such was indeed the hope of those in power at Cabul.
"Then our forces suffered severely, Khan?" said Denzil.
"So severely, that but one remained alive to tell the tale."
Denzil smiled at this, believing it to be mere Oriental hyperbole.
The entrance of servants with trays, on which were plums, peaches,
and other fruit preserved in sugar, sweet chupatties, and a flask or
two of yellow Derehnur wine (though forbidden by the Prophet),
enabled Denzil to address some apologies to the ladies of the house,
who invited him to seat himself on the edge of their carpet, an
unwonted honour; and then the simple collation proceeded without the
use of spoons or forks, which are alike unknown in that region.
Fresh southern-wood was thrown on the fire, and its fragrance filled
all the apartment with a powerful perfume.
Rose felt herself constrained, but most unwillingly, to resume her
part of chess-player, which she did in silence, as she scarcely knew
a word of the Khan's language, but he had been delighted with her on
first learning that she could play the knightly game, and play it
well too, as chess is peculiarly an Oriental pastime, and was brought
into Europe originally by the returned Crusaders.
"Shabash!" (Bravo) he exclaimed, and patted her kindly on the
shoulder, as she again took her place near him; but her eyes ever
wandered from the chess-board to the face of Denzil, whom the
Kuzzilbash lady and her daughters overwhelmed with questions, many of
which they had long since asked Rose. Among these were the three
invariable queries, whether the East India Company was a man or a
woman; if it was true that our ruler in Feringhistan was a Queen, and
if the men in that region wore trousers, while the women did not.
They conversed with him freely, and without constraint, for among the
Afghans, unlike other races which profess the Moslem faith,
intercourse between the sexes is somewhat on an European footing, and
the home of the Afghan husband is one which deserves to be accounted
such, as all his leisure hours are spent with his wife and children;
and he leads his guest without fear or scruple into the family
circle. Hence, with all their ferocity, the passion of love is
neither unknown nor unhonoured among them.
Two or three days elapsed after their meeting before Denzil and Rose
Trecarrel became aware that so many hostages were retained in the
hands of Ackbar as pledges, to answer with their lives, or at least
with their liberties, for the final withdrawal of all our troops from
Afghanistan, including Sir Robert Sale's Brigade in Jellalabad and
General Nott's division, 9000 strong, in Candahar; and now they found
that, owing to a split in the enemy's camp, and a coolness between
the Sirdir and the Khan Shireen, the latter was detaining them _in
secret_ as hostages on his own account.
"Set me free!" she had frequently implored of him.
"Not if you gave me all the lost riches of Khosroo," he replied,
referring to the supposed buried treasure of Cyrus.
She had next besought aid of his wife, who shook her head, and said
laughingly--
"Ere long, you will too probably be sold to a chief in Toorkistan,
and live in a castle, or perhaps a tent, as his wife; if he chooses
to make you such before the Cadi," added the Kuzzilbash lady, gazing
with her great black eyes into the clear hazel orbs of the shocked
and perplexed English girl, and feeling herself the while as much
embarrassed in their difference of ideas as if her guest had come
from Jupiter, Saturn, or any other of those planets which to her were
but as lamps set in the sky by God or the Prophet, she knew not
which, as the moollahs were somewhat uncertain on the subject.
But now the great event of having the society of Denzil made Rose,
who had previously felt herself so friendless and forlorn, so
desolate and lost, much more hopeful and contented; and something of
her old coquetry came to the surface again, when daily he walked with
her in the garden of the fort, as they were never permitted to go
beyond its walls. They had both undergone much, and witnessed some
frightful scenes; but it was with them there, as with those who dwell
"in the countries where earthquakes are frequent, and where in almost
every century some terrible convulsion has laid a whole city in
ruins--the inhabitants acquire a strange indifference to peril till
the very instant of its presence, and learn to forget calamities when
once they have passed."