"What then is your intention, Sir?" demanded he.
"You are armed," replied Osman; "fight with me. If you can, clear your way by slaying me, or else lay down your own life and make way for me."
With these words Osman attacked the Prince with his sword, without even allowing him time to reply. Tho Prince was compelled to draw his sword hastily, and defend himself. Osman made repeated attempts on the life of the Prince, but the latter did not attempt to strike his antagonist, he only maintained the defensive. Both were masters of their weapons, and the fight continued for a long time, without resulting in the defeat of one or the other. But the blows of the Pathan made sorry work of the Prince's body, which was drenched with blood; Osman on the contrary was untouched, as the Prince had not aimed at him a single blow. Finding himself gradually enfeebled by loss of blood, and knowing death to be certain in such an unequal encounter, the Prince cried out imploringly,
"Desist, Osman, desist, I say;—I acknowledge myself vanquished."
"Ha! I did not know before," replied Osman with a laugh, "that a Rajput officer feared to die. Fight on—I will slay you—I will never forgive; whilst you live, Aesha will never be mine."
"I am not for Aesha," said the Prince.
"No, you are not, but Aesha is for you," said Osman flourishing his sword, "fight on—no forgiving."
The Prince flung away his sword at a distance, and said,
"I will never fight. You have served me in my misfortune; and I will not fight with you."
Transported by rage, Osman dealt a kick at the Prince's chest.
