DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.5828#0211
178
THE OMKAH OF CHANDAHAR
" Is the kite preparing to swoop upon the un-
conscious dove ? Well, it is not for the deformed
fox-bat to cover her with its wings ?"
" What dost thou know of those girls ?"
" They are the children of one father, who would
not spare the hyena that crept into his fold."
. " He is brave then."
" Though blind, he would grapple with the lion
that crossed his path to mar his domestic peace."
" I would possess those girls."
" Try thy luck, but blame thy own rashness, if the
cold blight of a father's curse wither thee."
" Dost thou refuse to aid me ?"
" I refuse nothing worth my accepting."
" Wilt thou bring those maidens before me ?"
" Thou hast yet named no condition by which I
might be tempted to perform thy bidding."
" There are a hundred golden dinars1."
The old woman eagerly held out her hand.
" Wilt thou do my behest ?"
She nodded assent, and having griped the gold
with an energy that left the impression of it upon
her withered palm, with a sinister grin she hobbled
from the presence of her interested benefactor, took
up a handful of dust, as she reached the outside of
his portal, and scattering it into the tranquil air,
mumbled an unintelligible but bitter anathema, and
was shortly hidden amid the thickets of the jungle.
1 The dinar is in value about nine shillings.
THE OMKAH OF CHANDAHAR
" Is the kite preparing to swoop upon the un-
conscious dove ? Well, it is not for the deformed
fox-bat to cover her with its wings ?"
" What dost thou know of those girls ?"
" They are the children of one father, who would
not spare the hyena that crept into his fold."
. " He is brave then."
" Though blind, he would grapple with the lion
that crossed his path to mar his domestic peace."
" I would possess those girls."
" Try thy luck, but blame thy own rashness, if the
cold blight of a father's curse wither thee."
" Dost thou refuse to aid me ?"
" I refuse nothing worth my accepting."
" Wilt thou bring those maidens before me ?"
" Thou hast yet named no condition by which I
might be tempted to perform thy bidding."
" There are a hundred golden dinars1."
The old woman eagerly held out her hand.
" Wilt thou do my behest ?"
She nodded assent, and having griped the gold
with an energy that left the impression of it upon
her withered palm, with a sinister grin she hobbled
from the presence of her interested benefactor, took
up a handful of dust, as she reached the outside of
his portal, and scattering it into the tranquil air,
mumbled an unintelligible but bitter anathema, and
was shortly hidden amid the thickets of the jungle.
1 The dinar is in value about nine shillings.