Thank heaven! King George's banner waved on it still--a crowd were gathered on the walls--the men, the dastards who had deserted me--and women, too.

Among the latter I thought I distinguished ONE who--O gods! the thought turned me sick--I trembled and looked pale for the first time.
"He trembles! he turns pale," shouted out Bobbachy Bahawder, ferociously exulting over his conquered enemy.
"Dog!" shouted I--( I was sitting with my head to the donkey's tail, and so looked the Bobbachy full in the face)--"not so pale as you looked when I felled you with this arm--not so pale as your women looked when I entered your harem!" Completely chop-fallen, the Indian ruffian was silent: at any rate, I had done for HIM.
We arrived at the place of execution.

A stake, a couple of feet thick and eight high, was driven in the grass: round the stake, about seven feet from the ground, was an iron ring, to which were attached two fetters; in these my wrists were placed.

Two or three executioners stood near, with strange-looking instruments: others were blowing at a fire, over which was a caldron, and in the embers were stuck other prongs and instruments of iron.
The crier came forward and read my sentence.

It was the same in effect as that which had been hinted to me the day previous by the Grand Vizier.