Thou art the chosen of Brahma, and when the hour striketh and the
Holy War proclaimed from east to west and from north to south, then it
shall be _thy_ sword--"
Nehal Singh held up his hand with a gesture of command.
"Thou also art a dreamer," he said firmly. "Thy heart is full of an old
hatred and an old injury. My heart is free from both. Seest thou, my
father, there were years when thy words called up some echo in me. Thou
toldest me of the Feringhi, of the bloody battles thou foughtest against
them because they had wronged thee; how, after Fortune had smiled faintly,
thou wert driven into exile, and I, thy son, bereft of all save pomp and
title, placed upon thy empty throne. These things made my blood boil. In
those days I thought and planned for the great hour when I should seek
revenge for thee and for myself. That is all past."
"Why all past?" Behar Asor demanded.
"Because the truth drifted in to me from the outer world. I saw that
everywhere there was peace such as my land, even after thy account, has
rarely known. Law and order reigned where there had been plundering and
devastation, prosperity where there had been endless famine. More than
this, I saw that in every conflict, whether between beast and beast or man
and man, it was always the strongest and wisest that conquered. The
triumph of the fool and weakling is but a short one, nor is the rule of
crime and wickedness of long duration.
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