Diggle replied to his vehement words in a tone too low for
Desmond to catch what he said. Angria turned to the boy again.
"I will not only set you free; I will give you half a lakh of rupees; you
shall have a place at my court, or, if you please, I will recommend you
to another prince in whose service you may rise to wealth and honor. If
you refuse, I shall kill you; no, I shall not kill you, for death is
sweet to a slave; I shall inflict on you the tortures I reserve for those
who provoke my anger; you shall lose your ears, your nose, and--"
Diggle again interposed.
"Pardon me, bhai {brother}," Desmond heard him say, "that is hardly the
way to deal with a boy of my nation. If you will deign to leave him to
me, I think that in a little I shall find means to overcome his
hesitation."
"But even then, how can I trust the boy? He may give his word to escape
me; then betray me to his countrymen. I have no faith in the Firangi."
"Believe me, if he gives his word he will keep it. That is the way with
us."
"It is not your way."
"I am no longer of them," said Diggle with consummate aplomb. "Dismiss
him now; I shall do my best with him."
"Then you must hasten. I give you three days: if within that time he has
not consented, I shall do to him all that I have said, and more also."
"I do not require three days to make up my mind," said Desmond quietly.
"I cannot do what--"
"Hush, you young fool!" cried Diggle angrily in English.
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