The Prince saw that he was a captive. Through the kindness of Osman and Aesha, he was living in a well furnished and perfumed chamber instead of in a prison; he was tended by servants and maids; he had everything ready before asking; Aesha was tending him with more than a sister's care. Still a person mounted guard at the door; he felt like a bird in a golden cage, fed with sweet drinks. When should he get free? Where was the likelihood of his getting free at all? Where were his troops then? How did they fare, deprived of their officer?
His next thought respected Aesha. "How has this fascinating and bewitching creature,—how has this image of benevolence and goodness descended upon this clay world of ours!"
Jagat Singha saw that Aesha knew no rest,—no fatigue,—no neglect. She was ceaseless in her attentions. So long as the Prince's illness continued, he daily saw her coming in the morning, like the 'sun new risen', with a graceful pace, holding a nose-gay in her hand; daily ha saw her remaining in the room even till the usual hour of bathing and breakfast had gone by; daily he saw her returning soon, after performing those necessary actions, to be engaged in tending him so long as the Begam did not send her maid, (with the exception of short interruptions from urgent business.)
What man has not lain on a sick-bed? But if ever it has fallen to the lot of any to have been tended by a radiant girl at his head, and to have been fanned by her lily hands,—he alone can say that disease is not altogether unpleasant.
Reader! wish you to form a lively image of Jagat Singha's situation? Well then, lie down (in imagination) on his sick-bed, your entire body suffering from severe pain. Fancy yourself
