The sounds of torture
ceased.
Fo-Hi closed the door and stood looking at her where she lay.
"I permit you some moments of reflection," he said, "in order that you
may compose yourself to receive the addresses which I shall presently
have the honour, and joy, of making to you. Yes--this door is
unlocked." He threw the keys on the table. "I respect your promise ...
and Chunda Lal guards the _outer_ exits."
He opened the further door, by which he had entered, and went out.
Miska, through the fingers of her shielding hands, watched him go.
When he had disappeared she sprang up, clenching her teeth, and her
face was contorted with anguish. She began to move aimlessly about the
room, glancing at the many strange objects on the big table and
fearfully at the canopied chair beside which hung the bronze bell.
Finally:
"Oh, Chunda Lal! Chunda Lal!" she moaned, and threw herself face
downward on the _diwan,_ sobbing wildly.
So she lay, her whole body quivering with the frenzy of her emotions,
and as she lay there, inch by inch, cautiously, the nearer door began
to open. Chunda Lal looked in.
Finding the room to be occupied only by Miska, he crossed rapidly to
the _diwan,_ bending over her with infinite pity and tenderness.
"Miska!" he whispered softly.
As though an adder had touched her, Miska sprang to her feet--and
back from the Hindu. Her eyes flashed fiercely.
"Ah! _you! you!"_ she cried at him, with a repressed savagery that
spoke of the Oriental blood in her veins.
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