1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

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A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
the girl, but the Mir interrupted him. “You said I should have fair play
and the best possible chance, so I, as the claimant of her hand, demand
the right of speaking to the girl first.”
The Chief Secretary smiled and was silent. “You name is Gul Begum, I
think,” the Mir said, addressing her quietly and kindly.
“Yes,” she said haughtily, “m y name is Gul Begum. What do you want
with me?”
“Just this,” he said, “that you present master obtained an order from
the Ameer to take four girls out of prison, and that I, being his friend,
and having no wife or child or any one to look after me, and care for
me, he has given me m y choice among three of you, that I ma y take the
one I fancy most awa y to my solitar y home to be my wife and
comforter.”
“Well,” said the girl, “and what of that?”
“Why this,” he went on in the same quiet tones, “that you have found
favour in m y eyes. I had not thought to find any one so altogether to
my taste, but I am ver y well pleased with you, and I will take you awa y
from the narrow confines of this cit y, away from this slavery which
must be almost intolerable to a young, free-born creature like yourself,
away to a countr y home among the hills. I wish to take you in lawful
and honourable marriage, as my one and only wife.”
The old Hakim fidgetted a little. This was better than anything he had
expected from the Mir, such a position would have been an inducement
to girls in a more fortunate position than that in which Gul Begum
found herself at that time. The Chief Secretar y only smiled as he went
on with his writing, and appeared to be taking no notice of what was
going on.
They were, however, not long left in doubt as to Gul Begum’s view of
the case. With one derisive peal of laughter, she tossed her head. “You
must be mad, old man,” she said, “surely raving mad. Does the dove
mate with the eagle, the tiger-cat with the deer, the young, the strong,
the living with the old, the decrepit, the dead? Good sir, I have seen
seventeen summers barely. You have seen not less than sevent y. You
face is old and worn and wrinkled, and you must have grandchildren
who would make more suitable mates for you. Look at me, I am a child,
an infant in comparison with you.”
Such laughter rippled from her lips, such scorn sat on her mouth, such
derision was visible in ever y movement. The Hakim tried hard to
suppress any outward sign of satisfaction with the result of his scheme.
The Chief Secretary looked up from his writing, surprised more than
amused. The Mir was very wroth. “’Tis you who must be mad,” he said,
indignantly. “You who are raving, for you rejecting what half the girls