Chundra. He was greatly attached to the Princess, and Naudba feared that, unless he was aroused to a pitch of fury by jealousy, he would overlook Rajkooverbai's indiscretion, and forgive her. So Naudba waited, like a tigress waiting for her prey. She knew that if she was patient her prey would be secured.
All unaware of their danger, the lovers were emboldened by that first meeting, and three or four letters a day passed between them. At last they resolved to meet again, and an assignation was made. This time the Princess arranged to leave her chamber by means of the knotted cord, and go to a bower in the garden.
The night came, and, as it seemed to the lovers, the very elements favoured them; for not only was it intensely dark, but rain was falling. At the appointed hour, and while her lord feasted, Rajkooverbai silently threw open her casement, and, with the aid of her devoted slave, slid down the cord and fled to the bower where Saadut was waiting for her.
All was silent, save for the whirring and chirping of the thousand and one insects that make an Indian night melodious. The soft rain pattered on the great palm leaves, and drove the fireflies to seek shelter; but the odours of many flowers made the air languid and dreamy. External influences, however, affected not the lovers. Clasped in each other's arms they forgot everything save the passion of love, and on each other's lips they sealed their devotion. But suddenly sounds arose to which they could not be deaf. They became aware of some extraordinary commotion in the Palace. There was the scuffling of many feet, the clanking of arms, the flashing of torches, the hubbub of men's voices.
"Fly—fly, Saadut."
"Allah save us! We are discovered!" whispered the Princess. "Fly—fly, Saadut, as you love me!"
"No," he answered, firmly; "as you are in danger I will share it with you."
"Saadut, Saadut!" she moaned, "pain me not. I may be able to appease my lord's anger; but, should he discover us together, he will slay us both."
"I cannot go and leave you to his wrath," replied Saadut, who was a brave youth. "Fly with me; we may easily gain the river, where we can obtain a boat, and before the day breaks we will be far away."
Rajkooverbai was more practical than he was, and assured him that flight was impossible. Her husband's mounted retainers would scour the country, and leave no road open. Their only chance of escape was by relying on her woman's wit, and trusting to her influence over her husband. In spite of this argument, Saadut seemed reluctant to go. But the commotion was increasing. It was evident the whole Palace was aroused, and Chundra's deep voice could be heard as angry tones he called his followers to surround the garden; and already the glare of the torches shone upon the dripping foliage.
"Go—go, in the of Brama, I beseech you," pleaded the poor Princess, in terrible distress. And, unable to resist her pleadings, Saadut hastily embraced her, and had scarcely time to disappear amongst the thick bushes and clustering palm trees, and climb over a high wall, before the garden was filled with armed men, with Chundra leading them. Swathing her face in her veil, Rajkooverbai slowly approached her enraged husband, and, restraining her
