"Do not touch me!" she cried slowly in English.
Umballa stepped back.
"I am Kathlyn Hare, and if all the world is not made up of lies and
wickedness, I am the queen you yourself made. I can speak a few words,
enough to make myself known to the populace. I will make a bargain
with you. I will give you five times five thousand rupees if you will
deliver me safely in Peshawer. On my part, I promise to say nothing,
nothing."
Umballa raised both his hands in astonishment. He knew now why that
form had stirred his recollection.
"You!" He laughed and clapped his hands to summon his servants.
Kathlyn, realizing that it was useless to attempt to move this man,
turned and started to run, but he intercepted her. "My queen, my bride
that was to be, the golden houri! Five times five thousand rupees
would not purchase a hair of your head."
"I am your queen!" But she said it without heart.
"What! Do you believe that? Having passed the ordeals you nullified
the effect by running away. You will be whatever I choose! Oh, it
will be legally done. You shall go with me to the council, and the
four of us shall decide. Ah, you would not be my wife!"
"You shall die, Durga Ram," she replied, "and it will be the death of a
pariah dog."
"Ah! Still that spirit which I loved. Why, did I not buy you without
knowing who you were? Are you not mine? At this very moment I could
place you in my zenana and who would ever know? And soon you would not
want any one to know."
"Are you without mercy?"
"Mercy? I know not the word. But I have an ambition which surpasses
all other things. My wife you shall be, or worse. But legally, always
legally!" He laughed again and swiftly caught her in his arms. She
struggled like a tigress, but without avail. He covered her face and
neck with kisses, then thrust her aside. "Poor little fool! If you
had whined and whimpered I should have let you go long since. But
there burns within you a spirit I must conquer, and conquer I will!"
Kathlyn stood panting against a pillar. Had she held a weapon in her
hand she would have killed him without compunction, as one crushes a
poisonous viper.
"Legally! Why, all the crimes in Hind are done under that word. It is
the shibboleth of the British Raj. Legally! Come!"
"I will not stir!"
"Then be carried," he replied, beckoning his servants.
"No, no!"
"Ah! Well, then, we'll ride together in the palanquin."
To struggle would reward her with nothing but shame and humiliation; so
she bent her head to the inevitable. A passionate longing to be
revenged upon this man began to consume her. She wanted the feel of
his brown throat in her fingers; wanted to beat him down to his knees,
to twist and crush him. But she was a woman and she had not the
strength of a man.