" His voice shook. "In vain I sought justice. There is no justice for
such things among the White People--not for themselves and not for us. I
drew my sword and in hatred and scorn as deep as my love and reverence had
been high, I slew my way to the false devil who had betrayed me. Him I
slew--and his pale wife I--"
"Who was this man?" Nehal Singh asked heavily.
"I know not. His name has passed from me. But the hate remains. For with
that act of treachery he drew back the veil from my blind eyes, and I saw
that they were all as he--bad, cruel, hypocrites--"
"Not all--not all!" Nehal Singh interrupted. He stopped by the splashing
fountain and gazed dreamily into the clear waters. His own face he saw
there--and another which was neither bad, cruel, nor hypocritical, but
wholly beautiful. "Not all," he repeated. "You judge by one man. There
are others, and it is those I will see and know, and--"
"I would rather see thee dead at my feet!"
"My father, I will judge them as I find them,"
Nehal Singh went on imperturbably. "If they be good and noble, I will
serve and love them. If they be bad, as thou sayest--then thou shalt live
to see me do thy will."
He heard a shrill cry, and his eyes, still fixed on the water, saw a hand
that swept upward, the flash of steel falling swiftly through the
sunshine. He swung round and tore the dagger from the nerveless hand.
"Thou dost wrong, my father," he said, with unshaken calm.
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