suredly they will do,
they will draw a distinction between mutinous soldiers who were false
to their salt, and native chiefs who fought, as they believed, for the
independence of their country. But one thing they will not forgive,
whether in Sepoy or in prince, the murder of man, woman, or child in
cold blood: for that there will be no pardon.

"But it is not upon that ground that I came to appeal to you, but as
a noble of Oude--a man who is a brave enemy, but who could never be a
butcher. We have fought against each other fairly and evenly; the time
has come when we can fight no longer, and I demand of you, confidently,
that, if we surrender, the lives of all within those walls shall be
respected, and a safe conduct be granted them down the country. I know
that such conditions were granted to the garrison at Cawnpore, and that
they were shamelessly violated; for that act Nana Sahib will never be
forgiven. He will be hunted down like a dog and hung when he is caught,
just as if he had been the poorest peasant. But I have not so bad an
opinion of the people of India as to believe them base enough to follow
such an example, and I am confident that if you grant us those terms,
you will see that the conditions are observed."

"I have received orders from Nana Sahib to send all prisoners down to
him," Por Sing said, in a hesitating voice.

"You will never send down prisoners from here," Bathurst replied firmly.
"You may attack us again, and after the loss of the lives of scores more
of your followers you may be successful, but you will take no prisoners,
for at the last moment we will blow the house and all in it into the
air. Besides, who made Nana Sahib your master? He is not the lord of
Oude; and though doubtless he dreams of sovereignty, it is a rope, not
a throne, that awaits him. Why should you nobles of Oude obey the orders
of this peasant boy, though he was adopted by the Peishwa? The Peishwa
himself was never your lord, and why should you obey this traitor, this
butcher, this disgrace to India, when he orders you to hand over to him
the prisoners your sword has made?"

"That is true," Por Sing said gloomily; "but the Sepoys will not agree
to the terms."

"The Sepoys are not your masters," Bathurst said; "we do not surrender
to them, but to you. We place no confidence in their word, but we have
every faith in the honor of the nobles of Oude. If you and your friends
grant us the terms we ask, the Sepoys may clamo