Note 03 — Chapter XIII · CONTAINING THE EPILOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY.

“Nay,” says the Jemmautdar, with a horrid leer, “she shan’t die in peace, nor shall you carry her off to the ships under pretence of caring for her body. She shall live and come to Muxadabad, and bring me a fine reward from the Nabob.” And turning to some of his company, he bade them fetch a palanqueen, while Mr Secretary and I looked on with anguish depicted in our countenances, and the rest of the gentlemen that survived added their earnest supplications to ours. But the wretch in whose hands lay the unhappy lady’s fate proved as callous as he had before shown himself avaricious, and we were about turning away with heavy hearts, that we might not look on the carrying away into a detestable slavery of a young creature for whom we all entertained such high esteem, when we saw Omychund entering at the gate, accompanied with a moderate but genteel retinue of servants. I leave you to imagine, sir, what were our feelings when we saw ourselves forced to supplicate this treacherous Gentoo, to whose resentment and chicanery it is now a common belief among us that we owe all our sufferings, and who had lain in our prison until the day before, but it appeared to all of us that in him we beheld our only hope of securing Miss Freyne’s release from the most dreadful of fates. Omychund advancing towards us with his sewaury,[03] we rose at his approach, and this low-cast shroff, who had never before approached a European without the most abject tokens of respect, nor ventured into the presence of one without removing his shoes, had the gratification to see six Britons greet him with the lowest bows they could bring themselves to offer. He greeted us with an air of unassuming benevolence, and testified by his countenance and gestures that he at once compassionated our sufferings and deprecated our respect.