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Updated: May 6, 2025
He tottered slowly away, vanishing like a curious twisted shadow amidst the deeper shadows of the columns. Nehal Singh watched him till he was out of sight, and then, snapping the dagger across his knee, flung the pieces into the water. They lay there, at the bottom of the marble basin, sparkling and twinkling in the sunshine.
The light of unchangeable resolution illuminated his face and made him, unarmed and dressed in the rigid simplicity of his uniform, a fine and impressive contrast to the brilliant bearing of his opponent. "Not that" pointing to Behar Singh and speaking in clear, energetic English "not that has made retreat impossible. It was already impossible before. Nehal Singh, I came here to plead with you.
Certainly the little Colonel had nothing either romantic or heroic in his appearance, and what was good and kindly in his bronzed face was hidden behind the mask of his racial pride. His first words were delivered in a harsh voice, which betrayed only too clearly his real feelings, though Nehal Singh recognized nothing but its disagreeableness.
I also have sought thee, for I have a message that thou shalt carry from me to thy people. Wilt thou bear it?" "Bear it thyself, Rajah, to the people with whom thou hast lived in honor and friendship." "In deceit and treachery!" Nehal Singh retorted, frowning. "But enough of that. Wilt thou bear my message?" "If it must be yes." "It must be.
It was Nehal Singh himself who saved the situation. "It is my pleasure to receive you," he said, in his slow, painstaking English, "and I am honored by the readiness with which you have complied with my desire to meet the Great People to whom my land owes so much. Though hitherto I have lived apart from them, I am not wholly ignorant of their greatness.
"That is surprising, seeing that you have made me what I am," he answered. Then he made a quick gesture of apology. "Forgive me, that sounded like a reproach or a complaint. I make neither. That is not my purpose." "And yet you have the right," she said, drawing a deep breath, "you have every right, Nehal. It does not matter what the others did to you.
"I have read of Englishmen whose deeds outrival the legends of Krishna," Nehal Singh answered thoughtfully. "They fought in your time, my father. Thou knowest them better than I." The old man ground his teeth together. "They are dead." There was a reluctant admiration in his tone. "Nevertheless, their sons live."
The little thing in Nehal Singh's life had been a woman's face. It shone between him and his old gods; it smiled at him from amidst the shadows of his imagination, beckoning him unceasingly to follow. And he was following with the reckless speed of a man who had been kept inactive too long at the starting point of life. "I am weary of all that has hitherto been," he told Behar Asor.
Henceforth the watchword for them all was to be "Forward," and Nehal Singh, standing like a white ghost in the deserted compound, shaken by the force of his own emotions, intoxicated by his own happiness and the shining future which spread itself before his eyes, sent up a prayer such as rarely ascends from earth to Heaven. To whom? Not to Brahma.
Nehal Singh, who had paced forward to the foot of the throne, turned and looked back. "Ambition I have had," he answered, "energy I have had. Like my thoughts, they have beaten themselves weary against the bars of their cage. What would you have me do?" He strode back to the door, and, pulling aside the curtain, let the full dazzling sunshine pour in upon them. "See out there!" he cried.
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