Hunsa's hungry eyes glowed in pleased viciousness, for the blacksmith
had indeed heated the metal; the green pipal leaf squirmed beneath its
heat like a worm, as Ajeet Singh, with the military stride of a
soldier, took the seven paces.
Then dropping the thing of torture he extended his slim small hand to
Sookdee for inspection.
Hunsa's villainy had worked out. A white rime, like a hoar frost,
fretting the deep red of the scorched skin, that was as delicate as
that on a woman's palm.
Sookdee muttered a pitying cry, and Hunsa declared boastfully: "When
men have evil in their hearts it is known to Bhowanee; behold her sign!"
But Ajeet laughed, saying: "Let Hunsa have the iron; he, too, will know
of its heat."
"Put it again in the fire," declared Sookdee, "for it is an ordeal in
which only the guilty is punished; but the ball must be of the same
heat."
And once more the shot was returned to the charcoal.
Gulab Begum pushed her way rapidly to where the jamadars stood; but
Sookdee objected, saying: "When men appeal to Bhowanee it is not proper
that women should be of the ceremony; it will indeed anger our mother
goddess.
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