Shere Ali, accordingly, travelled with reluctance1 to Bombay, and at that port an anonymous2 letter with the postmark of Calcutta was brought to him on board the steamer. Shere Ali glanced through it, and laughed, knowing well his countrymen's passion for mysteries and intrigues4. He put the letter in his pocket and took the northward5 mail. These were the days before the North-West Province had been severed6 from the Punjab, and instructions had been given to Shere Ali to break his journey at Lahore. He left the train, therefore, at that station, on a morning when the thermometer stood at over a hundred in the shade, and was carried in a barouche drawn7 by camels to Government House. There a haggard and heat-worn Commissioner8 received him, and in the cool of the evening took him for a ride, giving him sage9 advice with the accent of authority.
"His Excellency would have liked to have seen you himself," said the
Commissioner. "But he is in the Hills and he did not think it necessary
to take you so far out of your way. It is as well that you should get to
Kohara as soon as possible, and on particular subjects the Resident,
Captain Phillips, will be able and glad to advise you."
The Commissioner spoke10 politely enough, but the accent of authority was there. Shere Ali's ears were quick to notice and resent it. Some years had passed since commands had been laid upon him.
"I shall always be glad to hear what Captain Phillips has to say," he replied stiffly.
"Yes, yes, of course," said the Commissioner, taking that for granted.
"Captain Phillips has our views."
He did not seem to notice the stiffness of Shere Ali's tone. He was tired with the strain of the hot weather, as his drawn face and hollow eyes showed clearly.
"On general lines," he continued, "his Excellency would like you to understand that the Government has no intention and no wish to interfere11 with the customs and laws of Chiltistan. In fact it is at this moment particularly desirable that you should throw your influence on the side of the native observances."
"Indeed," said Shere Ali, as he rode along the Mall by the Commissioner's side. "Then why was I sent to Oxford12?"
"Surely that is a question to ask of his Highness, your father," he replied. "No doubt all you learnt and saw there will be extremely valuable. What I am saying now is that the Government wishes to give no pretext14 whatever to those who would disturb Chiltistan, and it looks to you with every confidence for help and support."
"And the road?" asked Shere Ali.
"It is not proposed to carry on the road. The merchants in Kohara think that by bringing more trade, their profits would become less, while the country people look upon it as a deliberate attack upon their independence. The Government has no desire to force it upon the people against their wish."
Shere Ali made no reply, but his heart grew bitter within him. He had come out to India sore and distressed15 at parting from his friends, from the life he had grown to love. All the way down the Red Sea and across the Indian Ocean, the pangs16 of regret had been growing keener with each new mile which was gathered in behind the screw. He had lain awake listening to the throb17 of the engine with an aching heart, and with every longing18 for the country he had left behind growing stronger, every recollection growing more vivid and intense. There was just one consolation19 which he had. Violet Oliver had enheartened him to make the most of it, and calling up the image of her face before him, he had striven so to do. There were his plans for the regeneration of his country. And lo! here at Lahore, three days after he had set foot on land, they were shattered—before they were begun. He had been trained and educated in the West according to Western notions and he was now bidden to go and rule in the East according to the ideals of the East. Bidden! For the quiet accent of authority in the words of the unobservant man who rode beside him rankled20 deeply. He had it in his thoughts to cry out: "Then what place have I in Chiltistan?"
But though he never uttered the question, it was none the less answered.
"Economy and quiet are the two things which Chiltistan needs," said the
Commissioner. Then he looked carelessly at Shere Ali.
"It is hoped that you will marry and settle down as soon as possible," he said.
Shere Ali reined21 in his horse, stared for a moment at his companion and then began quietly to laugh. The laughter was not pleasant to listen to, and it grew harsher and louder. But it brought no change to the tired face of the Commissioner, who had stopped his horse beside Shere Ali's and was busy with the buckle22 of his stirrup leather. He raised his head when the laughter stopped. And it stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
"You were saying—" he remarked politely.
"Certainly," said the Commissioner. "This way," and he turned at right angles out of the Mall and its avenue of great trees and led the way towards the native city. Short of it, however, he stopped.
"You won't mind if I leave you here," he said. "There is some work to be done. You can make no mistake. You can see the Gate from here."
"Is that the Delhi Gate?" asked Shere Ali.
"Yes. You can find your own way back, no doubt"; and the unobservant
Shere Ali went forward alone down the narrowing street towards the Gate. He was aflame with indignation. So he was to be nothing, he was to do nothing, except to practice economy and marry—a nigger. The contemptuous word rose to his mind. Long ago it had been applied25 to him more than once during his early school-days, until desperate battles and black eyes had won him immunity26. Now he used it savagely27 himself to stigmatise his own people. He was of the White People, he declared. He felt it, he looked it. Even at that moment a portly gentleman of Lahore in a coloured turban and patent-leather shoes salaamed28 to him as he passed upon his horse. "Surely," he thought, "I am one of the Sahibs. This fool of a Commissioner does not understand."
A woman passed him carrying a babe poised29 upon her head, with silver anklets upon her bare ankles and heavy silver rings upon her toes. She turned her face, which was overshadowed by a hood30, to look at Shere Ali as he rode by. He saw the heavy stud of silver and enamel31 in her nostril32, the withered33 brown face. He turned and looked at her, as she walked flat-footed and ungainly, her pyjamas34 of pink cotton showing beneath her cloak. He had no part or lot with any of these people of the East. The face of Violet Oliver shone before his eyes. There was his mate. He recalled the exquisite35 daintiness of her appearance, her ruffles36 of lace, the winning sweetness of her eyes. Not in Chiltistan would he find a woman to drive that image from his thoughts.
Meanwhile he drew nearer to the Delhi Gate. A stream of people flowed out from it towards him. Over their heads he looked through the archway down the narrow street, where between the booths and under the carved overhanging balconies the brown people robed and turbaned, in saffron and blue, pink and white, thronged38 and chattered39 and jostled, a kaleidoscope of colour. Shere Ali turned his eyes to the right and the left as he went. It was not merely to rid himself of the Commissioner that he had proposed to ride on to the bazaars40 by way of the Delhi Gate. The anonymous letter bearing the postmark of Calcutta, which had been placed in his hand when the steamer reached Bombay, besought41 him to pass by the Delhi Gate at Lahore and do certain things by which means he would hear much to his advantage. He had no thought at the moment to do the particular things, but he was sufficiently42 curious to pass by the Delhi Gate. Some intrigue3 was on hand into which it was sought to lure43 him. He had not forgotten that his countrymen were born intriguers.
Slowly he rode along. Here and there a group of people were squatting44 on the ground, talking noisily. Here and there a beggar stretched out a maimed limb and sought for alms. Then close to the gate he saw that for which he searched: a man sitting apart with a blanket over his head. No one spoke to the man, and for his part he never moved. He sat erect45 with his legs crossed in front of him and his hands resting idly on his knees, a strange and rather grim figure; so motionless, so utterly46 lifeless he seemed. The blanket reached almost to the ground behind and hung down to his lap in front, and Shere Ali noticed that a leathern begging-bowl at his side was well filled with coins. So he must have sat just in that attitude, with that thick covering stifling47 him, all through the fiery48 heat of that long day. As Shere Ali looked, he saw a poor bent49 man in rags, with yellow caste marks on his forehead, add a copper50 pi to the collection in the bowl. Shere Ali stopped the giver.
"Who is he?" he asked, pointing to the draped figure.
The old Hindu raised his hand and bowed his forehead into the palm.
"Huzoor, he is a holy man, a stranger who has lately come to Lahore, but the holiest of all the holy men who have ever sat by the Delhi Gate. His fame is already great."
"But why does he sit covered with the blanket?" asked Shere Ali.
"Huzoor, because of his holiness. He is so holy that his face must not be seen."
Shere Ali laughed.
"He told you that himself, I suppose," he said.
"Huzoor, it is well known," said the old man. "He sits by the road all day until the darkness comes—"
"Yes," said Shere Ali, bethinking him of the recommendations in his letter, "until the darkness comes—and then?"
"Then he goes away into the city and no one sees him until the morning"; and the old man passed on.
Shere Ali chuckled51 and rode by the hooded52 man. His curiosity increased. It was quite likely that the blanket hid a Mohammedan Pathan from beyond the hills. To come down into the plains and mulct the pious53 Hindu by some such ingenious practice would appeal to the Pathan's sense of humour almost as much as to his pocket. Shere Ali drew the letter from his pocket, and in the waning54 light read it through again. True, the postmark showed that the letter had been posted in Calcutta, but more than one native of Chiltistan had come south and set up as a money-lender in that city on the proceeds of a successful burglary. He replaced the letter in his pocket, and rode on at a walk through the throng37. The darkness came quickly; oil lamps were lighted in the booths and shone though the unglazed window-spaces overhead. A refreshing55 coolness fell upon the town, the short, welcome interval56 between the heat of the day and the suffocating57 heat of the night. Shere Ali turned his horse and rode back again to the gate. The hooded beggar still sat upon the ground, but he was alone. The others, the blind and the maimed, had crawled away to their dens58. Except this grim motionless man, there was no one squatting upon the ground.
Shere Ali reined in beside him, and bending forward in his saddle spoke in a low voice a few words of Pushtu. The hooded figure did not move, but from behind the blanket there issued a muffled59 voice.
"If your Highness will ride slowly on, your servant will follow and come to his side."
Shere Ali went on, and in a few moments he heard the soft patter of a man running barefoot along the dusty road. He stopped his horse and the patter of feet ceased, but a moment after, silent as a shadow, the man was at his side.
"You are of my country?" said Shere Ali.
"I am of Kohara," returned the man. "Safdar Khan of Kohara. May God keep your Highness in health. We have waited long for your presence."
"What are you doing in Lahore?" asked Shere Ali.
In the darkness he saw a flash of white as Safdar Khan smiled.
"There was a little trouble, your Highness, with one Ishak Mohammed and—Ishak Mohammed's son is still alive. He is a boy of eight, it is true, and could not hold a rifle to his shoulder. But the trouble took place near the road."
Shere Ali nodded his head in comprehension. Safdar Khan had shot his enemy on the road, which is a holy place, and therefore he came within the law.
"Blood-money was offered," continued Safdar Khan, "but the boy would not consent, and claims my life. His mother would hold the rifle for him while he pulled the trigger. So I am better in Lahore. Moreover, your Highness, for a poor man life is difficult in Kohara. Taxes are high. So I came down to this gate and sat with a cloak over my head."
"And you have found it profitable," said Shere Ali.
Again the teeth flashed in the darkness and Safdar Khan laughed.
"For two days I sat by the Delhi Gate and no one spoke to me or dropped a single coin in my bowl. But on the third day a good man, may God preserve him, passed by when I was nearly stifled60 and asked me why I sat in the heat of the sun under a blanket. Thereupon I told him, what doubtless your Highness knows, that my face is much too holy to be looked upon, and since then your Highness' servant has prospered61 exceedingly. The device is a good one."
Suddenly Safdar Khan stumbled as he walked and lurched against the horse and its rider. He recovered himself in a moment, with prayers for forgiveness and curses upon his stupidity for setting his foot upon a sharp stone. But he had put out his hand as he stumbled and that hand had run lightly down Shere Ali's coat and had felt the texture62 of his clothes.
"I had a letter from Calcutta," said the Prince, "which besought me to speak to you, for you had something for my ear. Therefore speak, and speak quickly."
But a change had come over Safdar Khan. Certainly Shere Ali was wearing the dress of one of the Sahibs. A man passed carrying a lantern, and the light, feeble though it was, threw into outline against the darkness a pith helmet and a very English figure. Certainly, too, Shere Ali spoke the Pushtu tongue with a slight hesitation63, and an unfamiliar64 accent. He seemed to grope for words.
"A letter?" he cried. "From Calcutta? Nay65, how can that be? Some foolish fellow has dared to play a trick," and in a few short, effective sentences Safdar Khan expressed his opinion of the foolish fellow and of his ancestry66 distant and immediate67.
"Yet the letter bade me seek you by the Delhi Gate of Lahore," continued
Shere Ali calmly, "and by the Delhi Gate of Lahore I found you."
"My fame is great," replied Safdar Khan bombastically68. "Far and wide it has spread like the boughs69 of a gigantic tree."
"Rubbish," said Shere Ali curtly70, breaking in upon Safdar's vehemence71. "I am not one of the Hindu fools who fill your begging-bowl," and he laughed.
In the darkness he heard Safdar Khan laugh too.
"You expected me," continued Shere Ali. "You looked for my coming. Your ears were listening for the few words of Pushtu. Why else should you say, 'Ride forward and I will follow'?"
"I will tell my lord the truth. Yes, some foolish talk has passed from one man to another, and has been thrown back again like a ball. I too," he admitted, "have been without wisdom. But I have seen how vain such talk is. The Mullahs in the Hills speak only ignorance and folly73."
"Ah!" said Shere Ali. He took the letter from his pocket and tore it into fragments and scattered74 the fragments upon the Road. "So I thought. The letter is of their prompting."
"My lord, it may be so," replied Safdar Khan. "For my part I have no lot or share in any of these things. For I am now of Lahore."
"Aye," said Shere Ali. "The begging-bowl is filled to overflowing75 at the Delhi Gate. So you are of Lahore, though your name is Safdar Khan and you were born at Kohara," and suddenly he leaned down and asked in a wistful voice with a great curiosity, "Are you content? Have you forgotten the hills and valleys? Is Lahore more to you than Chiltistan?"
So perpetually had Shere All's mind run of late upon his isolation76 that it crept into all his thoughts. So now it seemed to him that there was some vague parallel between his mental state and that of Safdar Khan. But Safdar Khan's next words disabused77 him:
"Nay, nay," he said. "But the widow of a rich merchant in the city here, a devout78 and holy woman, has been greatly moved by my piety79. She seeks my hand in marriage and—" here Safdar Khan laughed pleasantly—"I shall marry her. Already she has given me a necklace of price which I have had weighed and tested to prove that she does not play me false. She is very rich, and it is too hot to sit in the sun under a blanket. So I will be a merchant of Lahore instead, and live at my ease on the upper balcony of my house."
Shere Ali laughed and answered, "It is well." Then he added shrewdly: "But it is possible that you may yet at some time meet the man in Calcutta who wrote the letter to me. If so, tell him what I did with it," and Shere Ali's voice became hard and stern. "Tell him that I tore it up and scattered it in the dust. And let him send the news to the Mullahs in the Hills. I know that soft-handed brood with their well-fed bodies and their treacherous80 mouths. If only they would let me carry on the road!" he cried passionately81, "I would drag them out of the houses where they batten on poor men's families and set them to work till the palms of their hands were honestly blistered82. Let the Mullahs have a care, Safdar Khan. I go North to-morrow to Kohara."
He spoke with a greater vehemence than perhaps he had meant to show. But he was carried along by his own words, and sought always a stronger epithet83 than that which he had used. He was sore and indignant, and he vented84 his anger on the first object which served him as an opportunity. Safdar Khan bowed his head in the darkness. Safe though he might be in Lahore, he was still afraid of the Mullahs, afraid of their curses, and mindful of their power to ruin the venturesome man who dared to stand against them.
"It shall be as your Highness wishes," he said in a low voice, and he hurried away from Shere Ali's side. Abuse of the Mullahs was dangerous—as dangerous to listen to as to speak. Who knew but what the very leaves of the neem trees might whisper the words and bear witness against him? Moreover, it was clear that the Prince of Chiltistan was a Sahib. Shere Ali rode back to Government House. He understood clearly why Safdar Khan had so unceremoniously fled; and he was glad. If the fool of a Commissioner did not know him for what he was, at all events Safdar Khan did. He was one of the White People. For who else would dare to speak as he had spoken of the Mullahs? The Mullahs would hear what he had said. That was certain. They would hear it with additions. They would try to make things unpleasant for him in Chiltistan in consequence. But Shere Ali was glad. For their very opposition—in so loverlike a way did every thought somehow reach out to Violet Oliver—brought him a little nearer to the lady who held his heart. He found the Commissioner sealing up his letters in his office.
That unobservant man had just written at length, privately85 and confidentially86, both to the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab at the hill-station and to the Resident at Kohara. And to both he had written to the one effect:
"We must expect trouble in Chiltistan."
He based his conclusions upon the glimpse which he had obtained into the troubled feelings of Shere Ali. The next morning Shere Ali travelled northwards and forty-eight hours later from the top of the Malakand Pass he saw winding87 across the Swat valley past Chakdara the road which reached to Kohara and there stopped.
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1
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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rankled
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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immunity
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| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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salaamed
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| 行额手礼( salaam的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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nostril
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| n.鼻孔 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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41
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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42
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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44
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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45
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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bombastically
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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disabused
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| v.去除…的错误想法( disabuse的过去式和过去分词 )；使醒悟 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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