In the evening I received a
message from the old lady, urging the necessity of my paying the
first visit of condolence for the death of my young friend to the
widow and mother. 'The rights of mothers', said she, 'are respected
in all countries; and, in India, the first visit of condolence for
the death of a man is always due to the mother, if alive.' I told the
messenger that my resolution was unaltered, and would, I trusted, be
found the best for all parties under present circumstances. I told
him that I dreaded the resentment towards them of Raghunath Rao, if
he came into power.
'Never mind that,' said he: 'my mistress is of too proud a spirit to
dread resentment from any one--pay her the compliment of the first
visit, and let her enemies do their worst.' I told him that I could
leave Jhansi without visiting either of them, but could not go first
to the castle; and he said that my departing thus would please the
old lady better than the _second visit_. The minister would not have
said this--the old lady would not have ventured to send such a
message by him--the man was an understrapper; and I left him to mount
my elephant and pay my two visits.
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