55

CHAPTER III.

THE TAILOR'S STORY.

IN the city of Aurungabad, many years ago, there lived a Moolah, named Ghoosah Khan, a man of so irritable a disposition that there were few who could boast an intimacy with him. He was tall and thin, with a most forbidding countenance, strongly marked with the small-pox, by which fatal disease he had been deprived of an eye. On his chin grew a thin shabby beard, whilst the hair on his upper lip completely covered his mouth. In his dress he was slovenly and dirty, and throughout his establishment, which consisted only of one son and an old Mahommedan servant, named Suliman, economy was most rigidly maintained.

The Moolah was at this period about fifty years of age, though to appearance a much younger man. His wife had long been numbered with the dead, and it had been the wonder of the whole city how the poor woman contrived to live as long as she had done, the temper of the Moolah being so violent and insufferably irritable. After her death the Moolah never sought a second wife, probably because he imagined his search would be attended with considerable trouble to no purpose. Ghoosah Khan was

reputed wealthy, although no one knew where to find his gold. Some there were who entertained suspicions not very favourable to him, ascribing the possession of riches to supernatural causes, whilst others openly expressed their belief that he dealt with Iblis himself, who occasionally visited him. Whether it was owing to his riches, his situation, or his temper, certain it is that everyone beheld the Moolah with awe, and were particularly anxious to avoid giving him cause for displeasure.

At no time had a priest possessed so much influence in Aurungabad as Moolah Ghoosah Khan was allowed to enjoy; all the inhabitants, from the Nuwab down to the peasant, bowed to his opinion, and the mosque at which he performed service was morning and evening crowded to excess. Mothers consulted with the Moolah regarding the marriage of their children, and men took his advice on affairs of secrecy and importance. Amongst the inhabitants none were so wretched and led so inelancholy a life as poor Nazook, the Moolah's son, on whom his wrath was wont to fall, right or wrong, so that the youth actually looked forward with pleasure for death to remove this furious father, who was so great a clog to his happiness and comfort. Whilst he lived, however, Nazook was compelled to behave with respect, fearing his father would otherwise disinherit him, or die without revealing the spot where his treasure was concealed. There was one person in the city to whom the Moolah bore a mortal antipathy, and this was a Khoosh Nuvees,' named Dubeer Khan. It once happened that the Nuwab requested an extract from the Koran, or from some law-book, to enable him to form a 1 A fine writer.

correct judgment on an important case before him. In order that he might be sure of a correct exposition of the law, he employed the Moulvee and the Moolah Ghoosah Khan to furnish him with the Futwah. Accordingly the Moolah, having carefully written his extract, coupled with his own idea and construction of the law, took it to a celebrated fair copier and ornamental writer named Dubeer Khan, desiring him to write out the Futwah in the most ornamental style possible. Moulvee also employed this famous writer on the same occasion, and both were laid before the Nuwab, when the Moolah, seeing the two copies, fancied the Moulvee's was written far better than his, and consequently bore in his heart so great a hatred to the Khoosh Nuvees, that for many days poor Dubeer Khan durst not venture abroad. Several months after the offence taken at the conduct of the writer, Nazook was called into his father's apartment.

The

'Nazook,' said the Moolah, it is high time for you to look out for a wife; but as I have no reliance on your choice, I have determined to demand for you the hand of Zooma, the daughter of our respected Cazee. Do you presume to look dissatisfied, you audacious boy? Look pleased, sirrah; smile, I say, or by Mahommed you shall rue your conduct!'

The poor lad tried to smile, but, alas! the nature of the communication, together with the black looks of his father, produced only an idiotic grin, which unfortunately was construed by the Moolah into holding him in derision.

What, sirrah, you laugh at me, do you? Is it come to this! Ho, Suliman, come hither; be quick!'

The old trembling attendant entered, making a low salaam. 'Indeed, my father,' said Nazook, 'I had no intention of being disrespectful to you. I tried to smile in obedience to your commands; but alas! when the heart is sad it is difficult to dress the countenance in smiles.'

And what, pray, makes your heart sad, you pampered, ungrateful boy?'

'The subject of your conversation, my father, has grieved me. I cannot wed Zooma; I love another.'

'Don't speak another word, you villain! My breath is going.' ('I wish it was gone,' thought Nazook.) 'I say, be silent; you will else drive me into one of my rages, which, you know-oh! 'tis coming on, I feel it—I cannot stay, and yet am spell-bound to the spot. Bring me some water, Suliman. That viper will be the death of me.' Having moistened his lips with water, the Moolah was somewhat more composed; and after some little time said, 'Who is it you pretend to love? Speak, I command you.'

'As you have commanded me, father, I must obey. I love Zeinab, the daughter of Dubeer Khan, the Khoosh Nuvees›

This was quite enough. Down fell the Moolah, groaning, kicking, and clenching his fists like a maniac, calling down the vengeance of Mahommed on his son. Old Suliman, knowing how to manage his master, recommended Nazook to let him have his rage out, for that, like the most furious fire, must sooner or later abate. The fit, however, was of longer duration than the sagacious Suliman had ever before witnessed, and it was some time ere the distorted countenance of the Moolah resumed its habitual aspect. He breathed hard, foamed at the mouth, and

was convulsed with rage; so much so that Suliman sent for a doctor, on whose arrival he found his patient stretched out, not moving a muscle. The doctor examined the Moolah, and shook his head.

'Well, doctor,' cried Nazook, 'any hopes?'

'None,' cried the Hukeem; he is already dead.'

'Why, man,' said Nazook, that is the very' But checking himself, and pretending to shed tears, continued in a melancholy tone, saying, 'Is my dear father really dead ?'

'We have indeed lost our learned Moolah,' replied the doctor. 'Fetch a sheet, Suliman,' cried the youthful Nazook. 'You may depart, doctor. Go and tell the sad news.'

The Hukeem made a salaam and retired, whilst Suliman and Nazook began to tear off the deceased's coat and turban, leaving only his trousers, and then bound him up in the sheet. Suliman was then dispatched to arrange the funeral, which was ordered to take place the same evening. In the meantime Nazook ransacked the house to discover a will, which after some time he found, and in it read with pleasure he was named as the sole heir to the deceased's property; but unfortunately there was no mention made in the will where the property was to be found, so that Nazook saw himself heir to nothing save the old empty house over his head. Certain, however, money was somewhere concealed within its walls, he sent for labourers and bricklayers, determining to pull the whole house down in search of the hidden gold; but fearing the workmen might discover it during his absence at the funeral, he gave orders not to admit them until his return, leaving old Suliman in charge of the mansion.