"A child of blood and
battle, without energy, without ambition!"
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. "Is it not a sight to bring peace to the soul of the
poet and the dreamer? But for the warrior? Can he draw his sword against
flowers and trees?"
The old man smiled coldly, but not without satisfaction.
"There is a world that awaiteth thee beyond," he said.
"A world of which I know nothing."
"The time cometh."
Nehal Singh studied the wrinkled face with a new intentness.
"Hitherto thou hast always held a barrier between the world and me," he
said. "When the call to the Durbar came, it was thou who bade me say I was
ill. When the Feringhi sought my presence, it was thou who held fast my
door, first with one excuse, then with another. And now? I do not
understand thee."
Behar Asor struggled up into a sitting posture, his features rendered more
malignant by a glow of fierce triumph.
"Ay, the barrier has been there!" he cried. "It is I who have held it
erect all these years when they thought me dead and powerless. It is I who
have kept thee spotless and undefiled, Nehal Singh, thou alone of all thy
race and of all thy caste! The shadow of the Unbeliever has never crossed
thy man's face, his food thy lips, nor has his hand touched thy man's
hand.
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