In the morning the Nawab Vizier’s army went to surround His Bengali Highness’s tents, loading up whatever they could find in the women’s quarters or store-houses. Mir Qasim now despaired, and turned fakir, seeking refuge in a pretended fit of madness. He put on a vermilion red shirt and a hat, left his throne and went to squat on a mat in the middle distance, surrounded by some of his friends, whose wits had also altogether left them, and who also wore bright parti-coloured fools’ costumes,
