# The Slave Girl of Agra/Book 2/Chapter 4

IV. THE PERSIAN BRIDE
The story of Mihr-un-Nissa is one of the romances of Indian history. Her father was of a good Persian family, but was reduced to poverty and sought to retrieve his fortunes by emigrating to India. On the way Mihr-un-Nissa was born at Kandahar, and so great was the poverty of the parents that the infant was exposed on the high road. A merchant compassionately adopted her as his own child, and he added to his kindness by employing the mother of the infant as nurse. And so the infant Mihr-un-Nissa came in extreme poverty to the land of promise which, a quarter of a century later, she ruled as the Empress Nur-Jahan, or the Light of the World.
The merchant who had adopted the infant Mihr-un-Nissa introduced her father to business in India, and to the Court of the Emperor Akbar. The girl's father soon rose to wealth and distinction, and her mother had access to the women's apartments in the palace. She made good use of her opportunities, and often took her girl with her; and many were the Begums and Princesses who welcomed the bright-eyed girl with smiles of favour. But as Mihr-un-Nissa bloomed into womanhood other eyes marked her matchless grace.
Prince Selim saw the beautiful Persian girl in his father's household and was captivated. The fascination grew into an irresistible passion, and the heir to ​the Indian Empire wished to wed the daughter of the Persian adventurer. The wise Akbar disapproved of such an alliance, and by his orders young Mihr-un-Nissa was married to Sher Afghan, a brave and worthy man. Estates and a high appointment in Bengal were bestowed on the happy husband; and Mihr-un-Nissa was to accompany her lord to that distant province to be safely out of Prince Selim's way.
Shortly before her departure for Bengal she had been invited to the Palace to see Rakiya Begum, the eldest Queen of Akbar, and she had consented to give a last interview to Prince Selim.
The attendants left the room and Mihr-un-Nissa remained alone. But the Prince, if he had expected some response to his passion, was disappointed. Mihr-un-Nissa knew the decorum expected of a married lady and the wife of a high officer of State. If she sat outside the purda to receive the Prince she remained closely veiled. And if she did the Prince the favour of speaking to him her words were measured and dignified, and gave no encouragement to the heir-apparent.
"Will this be our last meeting, sweet lady?" asked the disappointed Prince, somewhat chilled by the cold reception.
"There should have been no meeting at all, Prince," calmly answered Mihr-un-Nissa, "for I am a married wife and may not be seen even by the most exalted Prince or Potentate. But Queen Rakiya Begum has been more than a mother to me since my childhood, and her request was a command. And something too," she added in a softer voice, "was due to the claims of our friendship."
​"Cold words these, Mihr-un-Nissa, and I would fain believe them to be dictated by the formal duty of a wife than by the warm heart of a woman."
"A woman who is married, great Prince, has no heart but that of a wife."
"You speak like the great Kazi of Agra! I did not seek you to-night, Mihr-un-Nissa, to listen to texts from the Koran."
"I speak like a woman, mighty Prince, who is married and wishes to be a faithful wife; and the Koran teaches us the duties of a wife."
A pause ensued. The Prince was restless in his seat, and chafed under chilling words from her whom he was determined in his heart to win. Yet he was afraid of offending her if he declared his passion too warmly.
"Pardon me, Mihr-un-Nissa," he said at last, "but the patient who suffers from a burning fever will sometimes disobey his physician, and the wretch who suffers from unquenchable love will sometimes forget the texts of the Scriptures. If I have judged you rightly, Mihr-un-Nissa, there was some response in your woman's heart to that passion which will never be effaced from mine. And even our sacred books point to means of union when two hearts are attracted towards each other by an indissoluble tie."
"I understand you not, my lord. I am already united to a man by the holy ties of matrimony."
"Those holy ties can be dissolved by a divorce which our Mullas and learned men will sanction under my bidding. We are not like the Hindus, among whom the wife is tied to her lord for ever, and sometimes follows him even to the funeral pyre."
​"There is no question of the funeral pyre here, my Prince, but only of faithfulness through life."
"It is a question of a burning pyre for me, Mihr-un-Nissa, if you bless not my affection. No trembling Kafir widow ever gave herself up to more terrible flames than that to which I am consigned; and shall the mandate of an old despot ordain me to this life of torture?"
"Respect your great father, Prince Selim. He has built up this great Empire for you. He will leave you the most glorious throne on earth."
"And what were the Empire and the throne to me unless you share them with me? Small gratitude do I owe him who has torn you from my embrace and consigned me to a life-long unhappiness. But Prince Selim is not the man to submit, and let his father, in all his might and glory, beware of a desperate man."
"Hush! Hush! speak not thus, for walls have ears. And your duty, Prince, as well as prudence, counsels you to submit to a venerable father whose ways are those of wisdom and religion."
"Religion! Why, Mihr-un-Nissa, he is more an infidel and a sun-worshipper than a Musalman! He and his Counsellor, the traitor Abul Fazel, have proclaimed a new religion which they call the Divine Faith, and wish to unite us with the despised Kafirs of this land!"
"I may not listen to words like these, Prince," said Mihr-un-Nissa, in a voice of unrepressed anger. "I may not hear words of disrespect against our great Sovereign who has honoured and rewarded my husband. And when you speak of the despised Kafirs, you forget, Prince, that your own mother is ​a Hindu, and one of the worthiest and noblest of her race."
"Pardon me, Mihr-un-Nissa," said the Prince, rebuked and humbled, "I came not to speak disrespectfully of my loved mother, or of my august father, in spite of the wrong he has done me. I came to repair that wrong, and it depends on you, Mihr-un-Nissa, to help me if you will. My plans are prepared."
"You speak mysteriously, Prince. Explain yourself."
"You have only to retire and live in concealment for a few brief months or weeks and all will end well. Sher Afghan will consent to divorce you for a promise of reward from me ten times richer than my father has bestowed upon him. The Mullas will sanction the divorce when a Prince demands it; and even in the lifetime of my father you can be my wedded, my cherished wife."
"A very excellent plan, Prince," replied Mihr-un-Nissa, as her red, thin lips were curled in mockery, "but you forget one or two small details. I know my husband, as brave a man as ever drew a sword, and not the wealth of your Empire nor the fear of death will induce him to part with a wife whom he honours and loves. And within a few months or weeks your humble servant, instead of being your wedded wife, will be away in the fair Province of Bengal, for so your father has willed and arranged."
"And do you think, Mihr-un-Nissa, that I, a trained soldier, have not made my arrangements too before I came to seek you? Two Tartar women, who well know the use of the steel, wait outside this door. ​Twenty eunuchs, the fiercest in this palace, are concealed in yonder courtyard."
"The walls of this fort are strong, great Prince, and are well manned."
"The gate leading to the river opens at my bidding, the royal boat is manned and ready, and five hundred horsemen, the fleetest in India, lie concealed under the trees across the river."
"The Emperor has a keen eye, great Prince, and a long arm to reach his wayward son."
"My entrenched camp is reached in a few days, my love, and the forces of the Empire will think twice before attacking a camp defended by Prince Selim and twenty thousand brave swords."
"Your father's army have done greater deeds, Prince, than storming an entrenched camp and bringing a wayward Prince to reason. The doughty old Man Singh has never yet lost a battle or failed in an enterprise."
"He, indeed, is worthy of my steel, my sweet one, and I have seen him fight, side by side with me, in the memorable Pass of Haldhighat, when we broke the pride and routed the forces of the Rana of Mewar. But Man Singh has enough to do to reconquer Bengal from the Afghans just now, and he will not march against a Prince on whom he has bestowed the hand of his sister."
"Your plans are well laid, Prince," at last spoke Mihr-un-Nissa, with an ominous earnestness in her voice, "but pardon me if a woman ventures to give you a word of warning. Your father's eyes are watchful and your father's guard never sleeps. Your visit to the palace to-night is known, and my ​visit to Rakiya Begum is watched. As I entered the fort from the Jumna I heard the clank of arms, and saw Imperial troops ambushed on the other side of the river. And more I tell you, Prince, and I speak in all candour to one who has favoured me with his attention, Mihr-un-Nissa is a true and faithful wife and will never be false to her wedded lord. We part now as friends, my Prince—and we part for ever."
"We part now," said Selim, after a moment of reflection, "but we part not for ever."
A long, low whistle sounded through the silent corridors of the palace. Both Selim and Mihr-un-Nissa started on their feet; they knew the import of the whistle too well. A rush of feet on the marble pavement outside the room, the gleam of sabres and dirks in the dim light of the stars, a few muffled groans in the distance, and all was still. The night wind once more blew over silent halls and shady gardens, and the waters of the Jumna far below gently lapped the walls of the fort. Prince Selim's eunuchs had been disarmed, and those who were not killed on the spot were reserved for punishment.
The silence was broken once more. From across the river came the ominous sound of muskets. Selim's horsemen had been surrounded by the Imperial troops. The Prince listened to the sound and trembled from head to foot. Brave over his wine cups and pampered in luxury, Prince Selim had inherited as little of his father's cool determination as his generosity and far-sighted wisdom. Cruel and vindictive in the hour of triumph, he quailed at the first alarm in the hour of danger. And as he still listened to the sound of the distant musketry he ​leaned on a marble pillar, and his cheeks were white as the white marble.
It was then that Mihr-un-Nissa showed something of that courage which enabled her, years after, to sustain a tottering Empire.
"Be a man, Prince," said the woman, with a woman's scorn, "and prove yourself a Prince of the Blood before you seek to be an Emperor! These inner halls are for us women, not for the concealment of a warrior. Walk out as bravely as you entered, meet your father face to face, and tell him that you came to pay a parting visit to a woman whom once you had courted. Your father is frank and generous by nature, and will forgive your folly. What, silent still? You spoke glibly enough, Prince, of your courage and determination a moment ago! But stay, if you dare not face your father, I, a woman, will meet him, and will obtain his pardon for a friend I shall meet no more in life!"
Selim felt ashamed at having displayed his weakness before this woman who knew no fear. Her words stung him to the quick, and he answered her with his usual boast.
"A warrior has no fear, Mihr-un-Nissa, and if I was unmanned for a moment it was at the thought of leaving you alone in this palace after our plot had been discovered. I can be in the midst of my horsemen yet, for my boatmen are ready. And the Imperial troops will quail before a Prince whose feats are not unknown in the annals of Hindostan. But shall I—can I—leave you thus alone in the hour of danger?"
"Rashness is not courage, Prince, and you will ​only compromise yourself by such hasty action. Your eunuchs have been arrested, the gate leading to the boat is closed, your fleet horsemen are prisoners by this time. Listen to a woman and take her advice. Explain the mistake to your father to-morrow, and I much misjudge that generous monarch if he does not extend his pardon to you when you seek it. As for me—leave a woman to her own resources; Mihr-un-Nissa will know how to protect herself. I am the guest of Queen Rakiya Begum and the wife of Sher Afghan, and few who know me will care to provoke my enmity or incur my displeasure."
Thus proudly spoke the wife of an, undistinguished and unknown officer. She seemed to be inspired by a consciousness of her resources, her courage, her future greatness. And as Selim gazed on the veiled figure, calm and untroubled in the midst of danger, he felt something of that admiration which baser natures feel for those who are born to rule. His passion for the woman was mingled with his adoration for a queen, and his accents had a ring of sincerity when he spoke again.
"Mihr-un-Nissa! you were born to command, and I to obey, and the time shall come when an Empire will obey your mandates. I will leave you, since you wish it, and I will pursue the path you have indicated. But I ask for one favour, Mihr-un-Nissa, one last act of your kindness, before I part. Queen among the daughters of men! vouchsafe to me one view of your radiant face, one glance from your queenly eye, before I leave this lofty presence. An unhappy prince in his wanderings for years to come will cherish your ​image in his heart, as unbelievers in this land carry in their breasts that graven image which they call their God!"
Mihr-un-Nissa was a woman, and this last appeal touched her woman's heart under the strong armour of pride and decorum. "May Alla forgive my sin if I am doing wrong," said she in a voice which for the first time trembled a little, "but I may not refuse you, Prince, this your last request."
The veil fell softly and disclosed a face no longer proud, but radiant in its loveliness, and suffused with a soft blush which heightened its nameless fascination. Persia, the land of song and poetry and fair women, owned no face of more voluptuous beauty; and India, proud of her dark-eyed daughters, boasted of none more bewitching.
In vain have the limners of Delhi in after times attempted to paint that indescribable grace on ivory and canvas; in vain have the bards of the West tried to describe in rich colours the Light of the Harem. The beauty of woman mocks the toil of the painter and the poet alike, and the beauty of Mihr-un-Nissa was an inspiration which came with her and passed away with her.
The humid glance of that woman fell on Selim timidly and tenderly, and the heart of the Prince heaved within him. But the veil was resumed, and the face which had beamed like a passing vision was hid once more.