And Lennox and Mr. Wynn discuss the unexpected situation together. Mr. Wynn expresses his astonishment: "We in confinement In Khizrabad! In the nuwâb's palace! Here! What does it mean?" “It means that this is not merely a mutiny of some of our sepoy regiments, but a great political convulsion," says Lennox thoughtfully. And Mr. Melvil is pacing up and down the verandah by himself. | Again has his impatience almost passed beyond the limits of endurance, when he gives a joyful cry as he sees the chief eunuch coming in at the gateway. CHAPTER XXX. "Women! women! You would not have women slain ?" "Why not?" says the begum fiercely. "Is it not the she-wolves that breed the he-wolves? When you slay wild beasts or noxious reptiles do you stay to inquire whether they are male or female? Do you not rather slay the female serpent? These English shall be rooted out of the the man, woman, and child whole infidel brood of them. Does not the Koran, the exalted, the revelation of the will of God, enjoin us, in many places, to destroy the infidel, to slay them wherever we find them?" THE CHANGE OF QUARTERS. THE eunuch had, as we know, told the truth when he said that the nuwâb had shut himself up in his chamber and refused to see any one. But there was one to whom neither the nuwâb nor those about him dared to refuse admittance. | land This was the Sikunder Begum. The nuwåb has enjoyed some hours of complete seclusion and rest, when the begum is announced. The Delight of the Palace is desirous of ascertaining from the Sun of Wealth how his disposition is now. She makes the inquiry. "There is a great pain in my head," says the poor nuwâb, as he rests his right elbow on his right knee, and then lays his right cheek on the palm of his right hand. She soothes him and sympathizes with him. Truly her voice is that of the bulbul; he has often said so in verse. "What her dearest one needs is rest." The nuwâb nods his head. "Not women." "There is no distinction of sexes." The begum had learnt Persian and Arabic, because of the delight she took in the exercise of her strong mental facul ties, to please the nuwâb, and because she loved distinction. She had learned a great many passages of the Koran by heart, because of the religious merit acquired thereby; because of the applause it brought her; and because of the power those authoritative utterances gave her. "What her beloved one requires is Most of all, because of her desire to grasp quiet." The nuwâb nods his head. "A few hours' more rest and quiet and the monarch of her heart will be able to hold the public durbar she has promised in his name. "Oh, my poor head!" groans the nuwâb. "Nay, we need not hold the durbar if he does not feel equal to it. It is much desired by the leaders of the now victorious troops, but she can satisfy them. Would she not do anything to ensure her master rest? and wield their authoritative utterances, because of her strong personal pleasure in them, had she devoted herself to learning all those texts that commanded the slaying of the infidel. "When ye encounter the unbelievers strike off their heads." "Kill the idolators wheresoever ye shall find them." These and many other like passages does she now quote. But the nuwâb is immovable. "This deed would not only be wrong but foolish," he exclaims. "It would be more in accord with good policy to treat these people well." "I would have them all slain, because it is commanded, and because I hate them, and above all because it is in accord with good policy. If we fail it will be better to have no one to bear witness against us. | the nuwâb's commands squeamish ?" And she gives him permission to de part. "Then I will hand the warrant to you, Jhundoo Khan," says the begum. "You dare not refuse to carry it out." The nuwab then takes his stand on his "Not for the sake of anything to my complete inability, at the present moment, personal advantage could I take part in a even to write his name. "I cannot do it." deed that would so shame my manhood. "Then that must serve,' says the And it would be well if you would now begum, and she traces on the paper angive me permission to depart. I have imitation of the pretty and curious convo- many things to attend to.” lution of characters which forms the nuwâb's signature, and which she has often amused herself and him by copying. "And that is your seal at all events," and she takes his private seal from the writing-case and puts its impress on the paper. "She has brought great trouble on the house, and now she will bring utter destruction on it," groans the poor nuwâb, when she has left the room. He has often said that her voice was to him as that of the bulbul; but though he had never said it, he had often thought, as he did now, that her voice had been also in his ear as that of the ominous screech-owl. . Returning to her apartment- the beautiful octagon chamber the begum sends an urgent message to the chief eunuch to wait upon her at once; that was the one delivered to him in the room where the English people were confined; they did not know how nearly it concerned them. She is now on her daïs, reclining against a heap of cushions, while the Soubahdar Rustum Khan and the chief eunuch are seated before her. "But here is the nuwab's warrant for their execution," the begum is saying, as she holds up the paper. "The slaying of women is to me forbidden," the soubahdar reiterates. "But you have only to make the arrangements." "I will not have anything to do with their death." "Have you not often said that you would do anything for me? "Anything that may become me as a man and a soldier." "And are we not commanded to slay the infidel?" and she quotes him the texts. "Well, I have disobeyed too many of the good precepts of the Koran, the exalted, to be troubled about disobeying some of the severe ones. To do this deed would be against my honor." "What is commanded by your religion cannot be against your honor." But all her arguments are in vain. Then she hints that the loss of her favor, of the nuwâb's favor, may mean the frustration of his ambitious hopes. "How can you hope to command our armies, if you do not carry out our wishes-if you disobey VOL. LXXIV. 3812 LIVING AGE. | "I wonder at his Highness issuing it, or his signing it," says the eunuch, looking at the paper. "Is not that his own signature — his own seal?" "Yes," says the eunuch, looking at them. "But it is a pity, a great pity they are such handsome young women," goes on the guardian and provider of the zenana reflectively. "Ha! says the begum, "for that speech of yours too must they die. I will not have those white-faced women about here. You would like to gain favor and make money by them, I know. But remember, Jhundoo Khan, that if you would attain to wealth and power you can do so now only through me." They then discuss the matter quietly. "After I have conveyed them to their separate apartments they can be killed there. I can get plenty to do it. The men of Sheitanpara are abroad to-day. They are plying their trade in the open are ready to do murder for hire. You will pay them well?" "Yes" for a while. - and then the begum is silent "No; I must see that pig of a Milmil " (Melvil) "Sahib die with my own eyes - and then she is silent again for a few minutes; and then she gives the eunuch certain directions. When Melvil saw the eunuch enter the courtyard the last rays of the setting sun were, not flooding the land they do not do that at this season of the year — but illuminating the heavens, and the eastern horizon glows with as bright a light as the western. A clear white light shines within the enclosures and courtyards of the palace. Melvil and the others move into the long apartment, and Melvil hastens to the end of it to meet the chief eunuch, who, having left his armed retainers at the foot of the stairs, enters it alone. "I have come to conduct you to other apartments which I have had prepared for you." Though he does not employ the complimentary epithets, "Cherisher of the Poor," and "Sun of Wealth," and "High in Place," of which he would have been so profuse a day or two before, Melvil remarks that the tone of his voice and his manner and bearing are more polite than they have been at any previous period of the day. "We ought not to have been put into this apartment at all. We should not have been kept here all day without any comforts, without any tatees or punkahs," says Mr. Melvil sharply. "I hope our sleeping apartments will be better." "The best in the world-small, but you will sleep more soundly in them than you have ever slept before. Will you follow me?" In front of the courtyard extends a wide open space which runs the whole length of the fortress, from one gateway to the other, and separates the private buildings of the palace proper, which run along the river side or eastward battlement, from the more public buildings, which run along the westward or city side battlement. They move across this towards the palace. They pass through a gateway and enter a pretty little garden, whose walks are paved with marble and in which I have often lingered as I would fain linger now-and mused on the different sensations produced by this shut-in garden and those conveyed by a garden out in the open face of nature. What a contrast, here, between the tender flowers and the hard stone, between the waving boughs and tremulous leaves of the trees and the hard, straight, firmly fixed lines of the buildings! From the garden they enter a small inner courtyard, into which the watercourse irrigating the garden runs. The water, taken off from the Jumna so many miles higher up, dashes merrily along the masonry conduit that is now conducting it back to the Jumna again rejoicing, an eastern writer would say, to rejoin its parent stream, as our souls ought to rejoice at the moment of death at the moment of approaching reconfluence with the divine original source Blest moment of release from bonds of clay, The soul, rejoicing, heavenward wings its course, And throwing off its vesture of decay, They move along the conduit, and, in doing so, advance toward a body of men who are standing by the side of it, at the point where it turns almost at right angles in its course. The conduit is a wide one, and has perpendicular masonry sides. They and these men are on the same side of the channel and within the angle formed by its change of direction. The eunuch, leading, passes a little way on in this new direction and then suddenly halts. The English are within the very point of the angle; the men waiting there and the eunuch's followers, six in number, suddenly form a line behind them; they are hemmed in between them and the conduit, in a small and triangular space. The manoeuvre had been carried out as the begum had directed. The chief eunuch has wheeled round, and drawing his scimitar from its gorgeous scabbard, he says to Mr. Melvil, coming immediately behind him: "The orders are that you are to be killed here." "What foolery is this?" says Melvil sternly. "No foolery, but the fact. You are to be killed here. These men attend to kill you. It is so ordered." Melvil glances towards the men. They are a most villainous-looking lot, men of the lowest class, as always have been those who have done the evil deeds in such times; and each man has in his hand a sword, or spear, or long, heavy butcher's or tanner's knife; and one or two carry matchlocks of which they now begin to blow up the cotton matches. That action gives Melvil a sudden spasm at the heart. Nothing could give stronger confirmation of the eunuch's words, nothing could show more clearly that their death had been determined upon and prepared for. But his voice is calm and steady and dignified as he says to the eunuch, "Ordered! The nuwâb sahib could never have ordered it. He would not be guilty of murder; and he knows that our death would bring utter destruction on himself and his house." "The warrant for your death is under his own hand and seal." "He would never order you to slay tender women. I know the nuwâb. He is a man of too good a disposition for that." "Well, it does seem a pity that such handsome young women should be killed; but she would have it so." the begum's character, and knows that now | her small feet fearless still; but she gazes And must they die—they who had begun the day in such fulness of life? Is death the terrible, the dreaded, now staring them in the face? Death, not as a release from some horrible disease—not when his advent has become indifferent to the powers of sensation, worn out by some long sickness - but death in the plenitude of life and health and strength, of capacity for feeling. Death, not as a release from poverty and sorrow and anxiety and distress, but in the midst of affluence and wealth, with full command of all the enjoyments of life. Death death the terrible! Life must always have a shrinking from no life. And Maud Hilton's first thoughts, too, are for those dear others; those others so near and dear to her. The beloved sister, whose existence has been intertwined with her own; the dear, kind mother, so beloved; the much-loved father. Then there darts through her mind a sudden thought: so Philip Lennox and May Wynn are not to be married to one another, after all; and she, Maud Hilton, and he, are to die together-oh, joy ineffable! And then she subdues that terrible feeling - rather it had vanished, as it came, of itself. No,' she would far rather that he should live and enjoy his happiness, and her grief is greater for him than for herself; so great is the power of love. So elastic was Mrs. Hilton's spirit that the mere thought of the change to better apartments had made her face quite bright as they were walking along. But now a horror of great darkness falls upon her. What! death for them, her children! Death for them ere they have known of life in the first sweet bloom of womanhood! Death for Maud, with all her noble qualities; death for her bright, fearless Agnes; death for these her children! She would have fallen to the ground, had she not seized her husband by the arm. "Oh, John, the girls!" she cries out to him. There falls upon them all, without any thinking, the natural horror of death. Philip Lennox had never felt fear, and he does not feel it now; but he experiences a sinking of the soul such as he has never known before. The sudden ending of his grand career- - that he could have borne. He had often faced that contingency on the battle-field; to so face it had been necessary towards making it. The manner of his death-thus, and not on the battle-field - he could have borne that also. But to have the crowning boon of love, not to be won by force, given to him too, and not to be able to take it! To have the cup of the elixir of life dashed from his lips, when he had only just tasted "What can I do?" he mutters from of its divine sweetness! It was heart-between his teeth, his voice hoarse with rending. He casts a look towards May. She, too the gentle, the beautiful, the tender-she to die in the bloom of her youth and beauty; she to be subjected to this fiery trial; she to be cast into this burning fiery furnace; she to undergo the terror of a sudden and violent death! The whirling brain brings up the thoughts which have most occupied it of late: God! there is no God! And then he casts upon the man nearest him a look which daunts and startles the ruffian, and makes him think that Lennox is about to rush upon him; and assuredly, had Lennox been by himself, or only with men like himself, he would have rushed upon the murderers and sold his life dearly; but these women cannot be killed running about that would add to the terror of death; and so he folds his huge arms upon his massive chest-though that very action, as significant of the casting aside of his strength, has a great pang in it and stands calm and still. Agnes Hilton, the fearless, stands on grief and with rage. And then he remembers, as in a sort of dream-in such moments not only the thoughts with which it has recently been occupied, but even those most distant and incongruous, will come into the mind-that gain of a large sum of money a day or two before, what does it profit him now? May Wynn had cast a wild look at Lennox, and then buried her face on her father's arm; and he, bending down, had whispered in her ear, "Courage, my child! we go to meet your mother." Wynn is the weakest in body of the four Englishmen here. Though he had maintained a quiet cheerfulness, and soothed and sustained the others, he, with his weak, delicate frame, had suffered more from the terrible heat and discomfort of their place of confinement that day than any, even of the women. But not even Philip Lennox, with his enormous natural courage, confronted this terrible trial with so firm a front as did Cuthbert Wynn, supported by his high Christian faith. He addressed himself to the eunuch: "You will give | shuffle of ministers and ministries without me time to say a prayer?" His voice sounds in poor Mrs. Hilton's ears as if it came from a long way oft. And, looking at the men gathered behind them, she sees, as if in a terrible nightmare, one of them grin at her and shake his heavy knife at her, and she knows him for the man whom she had borne back down the staircase that day. "Certainly," says the eunuch. Orientals have a great regard for religious observances; the eunuch himself prayed five times a day. Then they all kneel down—all but Lennox-and Mr. Wynn commends their souls to God in a few earnest words. Then there is a sound of firearms-they had thought it best to shoot the big, strong man and the ruffians rush upon them, and they are hewn down to the ground. Ah me! Lennox exhibits the fierceness of his spirit even in his death for he leaps upon the wretch who has slain his betrothed and bears him to the ground, and grips him by the throat; and it does not need that he should throw his whole remaining strength into it to make that grip fatal. And the bubbling water course ran crimson with their blood. stability or influence, apparently bearing out the popular prejudice that the French are a restless and volatile nation. A more profound study of the subject may prove that this axiom, like most such popular dicta, is hasty, and hence erroneous, or at least tells but half the truth. The French, since they cast off the corrupt and corroding yoke of the second empire, have been searching for the best methods of government suitable to their national idiosyncrasies. The task their rulers have had before them would have been no easy one, even if they had been men of rare merit. This, unfortunately for the land, has not been the case in a single instance during these past twenty years. As for the peo ple, their political education had to be begun anew, and the crisis found them, moreover, involved in a disastrous war, provoked by this very empire. With the enemy still upon their soil, a Government of National Defence was hastily formed, and not till the war was over was it possi ble to think seriously of giving a constitu tion to France. The first step was the election, by universal suffrage, of a National Assembly, which had to conclude peace with Germany. In the clever meridional historian and statesman, M. Thiers, was vested the supreme power, first as head of the executive, and then as president of the republic, assisted by a responsible ministry. After the evacuation of the territory Thiers was overthrown, to be replaced by Marshal MacMahon, who, it was thought, might be counted on to favor a restoration of the monarchy. But there was but one throne, and three pretenders to it-an Orleans, a Bonaparte, a Bourbon and among these three pretenders no understanding was possible. Hence, after many futile efforts, even the Monarchist section of Frenchmen abandoned their hopes, and joined the Republican party in the Assembly, in order to vote the Constitution of 1875 — that which now governs the country. In consequence, France, republican and democratic, possesses par liamentary institutions, an irresponsible president, responsible ministers, and two Chambers. These institutions are by no means a part of the Republican traditions, they are rather a legacy from the Monarchists; but they became a necessary condition of the assistance rendered by the latter to the foundation of the Republic of 1875. Obliged to live in a house built by their enemies, the Republicans have little by |