From the hakim, Denzil learned that one of our officers, named Colonel Palmer,* had been cruelly tortured in the city by having a rope tied round his bare leg, after which it was twisted tight by a tent-peg (like the old French boot), and this made him more than ever anxious to reach the presence of the Shah, who still held the Bala Hissar with a few adherents; the remnant of the Native army we had organised for him under British officers, all of whom, of course, had left him now. From his strange medical attendant he learned also of the old General's surrender, and subsequent death.
"Bosh!" added the hakim; "your General Elphinstone, sahib, blew his trumpets and beat his drums before Cabul, like a hen that cackles when she has laid an egg. It was with him, as it is too often with the hen--premature exultation; for as little may become of the egg as has become of his army--for the former, instead of being in time a crowing cock, may become sauce, pillau, or pudding!"
The snow passed rapidly away; the weather became pleasant and warm, and though Denzil saw nothing of the Khan, from his window he could see the ladies of his household in the garden below, where as usual with the upper class of Afghans, they spent much of their time in chatting among the bowers, talking scandal and listening to the songs of an occasional wandering musician, who played the _saringa_, or native guitar. It was once, while sitting listlessly looking into this garden, that Denzil had his hopes of succour from the Shah, crushed for ever.
No ladies appeared that day, but he perceived Shireen Khan, to whom another Kuzzilbash was speaking, gesticulating violently, and as they drew nearer his window, which was on the third, or upper story of the zuna-khaneb, he could overhear their conversation.
The stranger, Zohrab Zubberdust, now a Hazirbash, in the Body Guard of Ackbar Khan, was a handsome but fierce looking young man, with a high aquiline nose, heavy black moustache, and a face of almost European fairness. He had a tall plume in his scarlet cap, which was braided with gold; but, as the hilt of his sword, and the right sleeve of his yellow camise of quilted silk, were thickly spotted with blood, it was evident that he had been concerned in some recent outrage. There was sternness on his brow, a sneering expression on his lips, and a wild glitter in his eyes, as he said in a mocking tone,