that distance between you the better.'

Jangbâr Khân, the representative of the Shâhgarh Râjâ,[9] as grave
and reverend an old gentleman as ever sat in the senate of Venice,
told me one day that he was himself an eye-witness of the powers of
the women of Khilautî. He was with a great concourse of people at a
fair held at the town of Râipur,[10] and, while sauntering with many
other strangers in the fair, one of them began bargaining with two
women of middle age for some very fine sugar-canes. They asked double
the fair price for their canes. The man got angry, and took up one of
them, when the women seized the other end, and a struggle ensued. The
purchaser offered a fair price, seller demanded double. The crowd
looked on, and a good deal of abuse of the female relations on both
sides took place. At last a sepoy of the governor came up, armed to
the teeth, and called out to the man, in a very imperious tone, to
let go his hold of the cane. He refused, saying that 'when people
came to the fair to sell, they should be made to sell at reasonable
prices, or be turned out'. 'I', said Jangbâr Khân, 'thought the man
right, and told the sepoy that, if he took the part of this woman, we
should take that of the other, and see fair play. Without further
ceremony the functionary drew his sword, and cut the cane in two in
the middle; and, pointing to both pieces, 'There', said he, 'you see
the cause of my interference'. We looked down, and actually saw blood
running from both pieces, and forming a little pool on the ground.
The fact was that the woman was a sorceress of the very worst kind,
and was actually drawing the blood from the man through the cane, to
feed the abominable devil from whom she derived her detestable
powers. But for the timely interference of the sepoy he would have
been dead in another minute; for he no sooner saw the real state of
the case than he fainted. He had hardly any blood left in him, and I