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diff --git a/2828-h/2828-h.htm b/2828-h/2828-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed49867 --- /dev/null +++ b/2828-h/2828-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6630 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Under the Deodars, by Rudyard Kipling + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Under the Deodars, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Under the Deodars + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: January 8, 2009 [EBook #2828] +Last Updated: October 7, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE DEODARS *** + + +Produced by and Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + UNDER THE DEODARS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rudyard Kipling + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>UNDER THE DEODARS</b> </a> + </p> + <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE EDUCATION OF OTIS YEERE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> AT THE PIT’S MOUTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A WAYSIDE COMEDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE HILL OF ILLUSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> A SECOND-RATE WOMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> ONLY A SUBALTERN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE ENLIGHTENMENTS OF PAGETT, M.P. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + UNDER THE DEODARS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE EDUCATION OF OTIS YEERE + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the pleasant orchard-closes + ‘God bless all our gains,’ say we; + But ‘May God bless all our losses,’ + Better suits with our degree. + The Lost Bower. +</pre> + <p> + This is the history of a failure; but the woman who failed said that it + might be an instructive tale to put into print for the benefit of the + younger generation. The younger generation does not want instruction, + being perfectly willing to instruct if any one will listen to it. None the + less, here begins the story where every right-minded story should begin, + that is to say at Simla, where all things begin and many come to an evil + end. + </p> + <p> + The mistake was due to a very clever woman making a blunder and not + retrieving it. Men are licensed to stumble, but a clever woman’s mistake + is outside the regular course of Nature and Providence; since all good + people know that a woman is the only infallible thing in this world, + except Government Paper of the ‘79 issue, bearing interest at four and a + half per cent. Yet, we have to remember that six consecutive days of + rehearsing the leading part of The Fallen Angel, at the New Gaiety Theatre + where the plaster is not yet properly dry, might have brought about an + unhingement of spirits which, again, might have led to eccentricities. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee came to ‘The Foundry’ to tiffin with Mrs. Mallowe, her one + bosom friend, for she was in no sense ‘a woman’s woman.’ And it was a + woman’s tiffin, the door shut to all the world; and they both talked + chiffons, which is French for Mysteries. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve enjoyed an interval of sanity,’ Mrs. Hauksbee announced, after + tiffin was over and the two were comfortably settled in the little + writing-room that opened out of Mrs. Mallowe’s bedroom. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear girl, what has he done?’ said Mrs. Mallowe sweetly. It is + noticeable that ladies of a certain age call each other ‘dear girl,’ just + as commissioners of twenty-eight years’ standing address their equals in + the Civil List as ‘my boy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no he in the case. Who am I that an imaginary man should be + always credited to me? Am I an Apache?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, dear, but somebody’s scalp is generally drying at your wigwam-door. + Soaking rather.’ + </p> + <p> + This was an allusion to the Hawley Boy, who was in the habit of riding all + across Simla in the Rains, to call on Mrs. Hauksbee. That lady laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘For my sins, the Aide at Tyrconnel last night told me off to The Mussuck. + Hsh! Don’t laugh. One of my most devoted admirers. When the duff came some + one really ought to teach them to make puddings at Tyrconnel The Mussuck + was at liberty to attend to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sweet soul! I know his appetite,’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘Did he, oh did he, + begin his wooing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By a special mercy of Providence, no. He explained his importance as a + Pillar of the Empire. I didn’t laugh.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucy, I don’t believe you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask Captain Sangar; he was on the other side. Well, as I was saying, The + Mussuck dilated.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I can see him doing it,’ said Mrs. Mallowe pensively, scratching + her fox-terrier’s ears. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was properly impressed. Most properly. I yawned openly. “Strict + supervision, and play them off one against the other,” said The Mussuck, + shovelling down his ice by tureenfuls, I assure you. “That, Mrs. Hauksbee, + is the secret of our Government.”’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe laughed long and merrily. ‘And what did you say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ever know me at loss for an answer yet? I said: “So I have + observed in my dealings with you.” The Mussuck swelled with pride. He is + coming to call on me to-morrow. The Hawley Boy is coming too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘“Strict supervision and play them off one against the other. That, Mrs. + Hauksbee, is the secret of our Government.” And I daresay if we could get + to The Mussuck’s heart, we should find that he considers himself a man of + the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As he is of the other two things. I like The Mussuck, and I won’t have + you call him names. He amuses me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He has reformed you, too, by what appears. Explain the interval of + sanity, and hit Tim on the nose with the paper-cutter, please. That dog is + too fond of sugar. Do you take milk in yours?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, thanks. Polly, I’m wearied of this life. It’s hollow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Turn religious, then. I always said that Rome would be your fate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only exchanging half-a-dozen attaches in red for one in black, and if I + fasted, the wrinkles would come, and never, never go. Has it ever struck + you, dear, that I’m getting old?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thanks for your courtesy. I’ll return it. Ye-es, we are both not exactly + how shall I put it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What we have been. “I feel it in my bones,” as Mrs. Crossley says. Polly, + I’ve wasted my life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As how?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind how. I feel it. I want to be a Power before I die.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Be a Power then. You’ve wits enough for anything and beauty!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee pointed a teaspoon straight at her hostess. ‘Polly, if you + heap compliments on me like this, I shall cease to believe that you’re a + woman. Tell me how I am to be a Power.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Inform The Mussuck that he is the most fascinating and slimmest man in + Asia, and he’ll tell you anything and everything you please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bother The Mussuck! I mean an intellectual Power not a gas-power. Polly, + I’m going to start a salon.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe turned lazily on the sofa and rested her head on her hand. + ‘Hear the words of the Preacher, the son of Baruch,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you talk sensibly?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will, dear, for I see that you are going to make a mistake.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never made a mistake in my life at least, never one that I couldn’t + explain away afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Going to make a mistake,’ went on Mrs. Mallowe composedly. ‘It is + impossible to start a salon in Simla. A bar would be much more to the + point.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps, but why? It seems so easy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just what makes it so difficult. How many clever women are there in + Simla?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Myself and yourself,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee, without a moment’s hesitation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Modest woman! Mrs. Feardon would thank you for that. And how many clever + men?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh er hundreds,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee vaguely. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a fatal blunder! Not one. They are all bespoke by the Government. + Take my husband, for instance. Jack was a clever man, though I say so who + shouldn’t. Government has eaten him up. All his ideas and powers of + conversation he really used to be a good talker, even to his wife in the + old days are taken from him by this this kitchen-sink of a Government. + That’s the case with every man up here who is at work. I don’t suppose a + Russian convict under the knout is able to amuse the rest of his gang; and + all our men-folk here are gilded convicts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But there are scores—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what you’re going to say. Scores of idle men up on leave. I admit + it, but they are all of two objectionable sets. The Civilian who’d be + delightful if he had the military man’s knowledge of the world and style, + and the military man who’d be adorable if he had the Civilian’s culture.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Detestable word! Have Civilians culchaw? I never studied the breed + deeply.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t make fun of Jack’s Service. Yes. They’re like the teapoys in the + Lakka Bazar good material but not polished. They can’t help themselves, + poor dears. A Civilian only begins to be tolerable after he has knocked + about the world for fifteen years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And a military man?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When he has had the same amount of service. The young of both species are + horrible. You would have scores of them in your salon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would not!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee fiercely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I would tell the bearer to darwaza band them. I’d put their own colonels + and commissioners at the door to turn them away. I’d give them to the + Topsham Girl to play with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Topsham Girl would be grateful for the gift. But to go back to the + salon. Allowing that you had gathered all your men and women together, + what would you do with them? Make them talk? They would all with one + accord begin to flirt. Your salon would become a glorified Peliti’s a + “Scandal Point” by lamplight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a certain amount of wisdom in that view.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s all the wisdom in the world in it. Surely, twelve Simla seasons + ought to have taught you that you can’t focus anything in India; and a + salon, to be any good at all, must be permanent. In two seasons your + roomful would be scattered all over Asia. We are only little bits of dirt + on the hillsides here one day and blown down the road the next. We have + lost the art of talking at least our men have. We have no cohesion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘George Eliot in the flesh,’ interpolated Mrs. Hauksbee wickedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And collectively, my dear scoffer, we, men and women alike, have no + influence. Come into the verandah and look at the Mall!’ + </p> + <p> + The two looked down on the now rapidly filling road, for all Simla was + abroad to steal a stroll between a shower and a fog. + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you propose to fix that river? Look! There’s The Mussuck head of + goodness knows what. He is a power in the land, though he does eat like a + costermonger. There’s Colonel Blone, and General Grucher, and Sir Dugald + Delane, and Sir Henry Haughton, and Mr. Jellalatty. All Heads of + Departments, and all powerful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And all my fervent admirers,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee piously. ‘Sir Henry + Haughton raves about me. But go on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One by one, these men are worth something. Collectively, they’re just a + mob of Anglo-Indians. Who cares for what Anglo-Indians say? Your salon + won’t weld the Departments together and make you mistress of India, dear. + And these creatures won’t talk administrative “shop” in a crowd your salon + because they are so afraid of the men in the lower ranks overhearing it. + They have forgotten what of Literature and Art they ever knew, and the + women—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t talk about anything except the last Gymkhana, or the sins of their + last nurse. I was calling on Mrs. Derwills this morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You admit that? They can talk to the subalterns though, and the + subalterns can talk to them. Your salon would suit their views admirably, + if you respected the religious prejudices of the country and provided + plenty of kala juggahs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Plenty of kala juggahs. Oh my poor little idea! Kala juggahs in a salon! + But who made you so awfully clever?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I’ve tried myself; or perhaps I know a woman who has. I have + preached and expounded the whole matter and the conclusion thereof.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You needn’t go on. “Is Vanity.” Polly, I thank you. These vermin’ Mrs. + Hauksbee waved her hand from the verandah to two men in the crowd below + who had raised their hats to her ‘these vermin shall not rejoice in a new + Scandal Point or an extra Peliti’s. I will abandon the notion of a salon. + It did seem so tempting, though. But what shall I do? I must do + something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why? Are not Abana and Pharpar.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Jack has made you nearly as bad as himself! I want to, of course. I’m + tired of everything and everybody, from a moonlight picnic at Seepee to + the blandishments of The Mussuck.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes that comes, too, sooner or later. Have you nerve enough to make your + bow yet?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee’s mouth shut grimly. Then she laughed. ‘I think I see myself + doing it. Big pink placards on the Mall: “Mrs. Hauksbee! Positively her + last appearance on any stage! This is to give notice!” No more dances; no + more rides; no more luncheons; no more theatricals with supper to follow; + no more sparring with one’s dearest, dearest friend; no more fencing with + an inconvenient man who hasn’t wit enough to clothe what he’s pleased to + call his sentiments in passable speech; no more parading of The Mussuck + while Mrs. Tarkass calls all round Simla, spreading horrible stories about + me! No more of anything that is thoroughly wearying, abominable, and + detestable, but, all the same, makes life worth the having. Yes! I see it + all! Don’t interrupt, Polly, I’m inspired. A mauve and white striped + “cloud” round my excellent shoulders, a seat in the fifth row of the + Gaiety, and both horses sold. Delightful vision! A comfortable arm-chair, + situated in three different draughts, at every ball-room; and nice, large, + sensible shoes for all the couples to stumble over as they go into the + verandah! Then at supper. Can’t you imagine the scene? The greedy mob gone + away. Reluctant subaltern, pink all over like a newly-powdered baby, they + really ought to tan subalterns before they are exported, Polly, sent back + by the hostess to do his duty. Slouches up to me across the room, tugging + at a glove two sizes too large for him I hate a man who wears gloves like + overcoats and trying to look as if he’d thought of it from the first. “May + I ah-have the pleasure ‘f takin’ you ‘nt’ supper?” Then I get up with a + hungry smile. Just like this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucy, how can you be so absurd?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And sweep out on his arm. So! After supper I shall go away early, you + know, because I shall be afraid of catching cold. No one will look for my + ‘rickshaw. Mine, so please you! I shall stand, always with that mauve and + white “cloud” over my head, while the wet soaks into my dear, old, + venerable feet, and Tom swears and shouts for the mem-sahib’s gharri. Then + home to bed at half-past eleven! Truly excellent life helped out by the + visits of the Padri, just fresh from burying somebody down below there.’ + She pointed through the pines toward the Cemetery, and continued with + vigorous dramatic gesture, + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen! I see it all down, down even to the stays! Such stays! Six-eight + a pair, Polly, with red flannel or list, is it? that they put into the + tops of those fearful things. I can draw you a picture of them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucy, for Heaven’s sake, don’t go waving your arms about in that idiotic + manner! Recollect every one can see you from the Mall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let them see! They’ll think I am rehearsing for The Fallen Angel. Look! + There’s The Mussuck. How badly he rides. There!’ + </p> + <p> + She blew a kiss to the venerable Indian administrator with infinite grace. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ she continued, ‘he’ll be chaffed about that at the Club in the + delicate manner those brutes of men affect, and the Hawley Boy will tell + me all about it softening the details for fear of shocking me. That boy is + too good to live, Polly. I’ve serious thoughts of recommending him to + throw up his commission and go into the Church. In his present frame of + mind he would obey me. Happy, happy child!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never again,’ said Mrs. Mallowe, with an affectation of indignation, + ‘shall you tiffin here! “Lucindy your behaviour is scand’lus.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All your fault,’ retorted Mrs. Hauksbee, ‘for suggesting such a thing as + my abdication. No! jamais! nevaire! I will act, dance, ride, frivol, talk + scandal, dine out, and appropriate the legitimate captives of any woman I + choose, until I d-r-r-rop, or a better woman than I puts me to shame + before all Simla, and it’s dust and ashes in my mouth while I’m doing it!’ + </p> + <p> + She swept into the drawing-room. Mrs. Mallowe followed and put an arm + round her waist. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee defiantly, rummaging for her handkerchief. + ‘I’ve been dining out the last ten nights, and rehearsing in the + afternoon. You’d be tired yourself. It’s only because I’m tired.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe did not offer Mrs. Hauksbee any pity or ask her to lie down, + but gave her another cup of tea, and went on with the talk. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve been through that too, dear,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I remember,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee, a gleam of fun on her face. ‘In ‘84, + wasn’t it? You went out a great deal less next season.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe smiled in a superior and Sphinx-like fashion. + </p> + <p> + ‘I became an Influence,’ said she. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious, child, you didn’t join the Theosophists and kiss Buddha’s + big toe, did you? I tried to get into their set once, but they cast me out + for a sceptic without a chance of improving my poor little mind, too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I didn’t Theosophilander. Jack says—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind Jack. What a husband says is known before. What did you do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I made a lasting impression.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So have I for four months. But that didn’t console me in the least. I + hated the man. Will you stop smiling in that inscrutable way and tell me + what you mean?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe told. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you mean to say that it is absolutely Platonic on both sides?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Absolutely, or I should never have taken it up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And his last promotion was due to you?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe nodded. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you warned him against the Topsham Girl?’ + </p> + <p> + Another nod. + </p> + <p> + ‘And told him of Sir Dugald Delane’s private memo about him?’ + </p> + <p> + A third nod. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a question to ask a woman! Because it amused me at first. I am proud + of my property now. If I live, he shall continue to be successful. Yes, I + will put him upon the straight road to Knighthood, and everything else + that a man values. The rest depends upon himself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Polly, you are a most extraordinary woman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least. I’m concentrated, that’s all. You diffuse yourself, + dear; and though all Simla knows your skill in managing a team.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t you choose a prettier word?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Team, of half-a-dozen, from The Mussuck to the Hawley Boy, you gain + nothing by it. Not even amusement.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Try my recipe. Take a man, not a boy, mind, but an almost mature, + unattached man, and be his guide, philosopher, and friend. You’ll find it + the most interesting occupation that you ever embarked on. It can be done + you needn’t look like that because I’ve done it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s an element of risk about it that makes the notion attractive. + I’ll get such a man and say to him, “Now, understand that there must be no + flirtation. Do exactly what I tell you, profit by my instruction and + counsels, and all will yet be well.” Is that the idea?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘More or less,’ said Mrs. Mallowe, with an unfathomable smile. ‘But be + sure he understands.’ + </p> + <p> + II + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dribble-dribble trickle-trickle + What a lot of raw dust! + My dollie’s had an accident + And out came all the sawdust! + + Nursery Rhyme. +</pre> + <p> + So Mrs. Hauksbee, in ‘The Foundry’ which overlooks Simla Mall, sat at the + feet of Mrs. Mallowe and gathered wisdom. The end of the Conference was + the Great Idea upon which Mrs. Hauksbee so plumed herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘I warn you,’ said Mrs. Mallowe, beginning to repent of her suggestion, + ‘that the matter is not half so easy as it looks. Any woman even the + Topsham Girl can catch a man, but very, very few know how to manage him + when caught.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My child,’ was the answer, ‘I’ve been a female St. Simon Stylites looking + down upon men for these these years past. Ask The Mussuck whether I can + manage them.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee departed humming, ‘I’ll go to him and say to him in manner + most ironical.’ Mrs. Mallowe laughed to herself. Then she grew suddenly + sober. ‘I wonder whether I’ve done well in advising that amusement? Lucy’s + a clever woman, but a thought too careless.’ + </p> + <p> + A week later the two met at a Monday Pop. ‘Well?’ said Mrs. Mallowe. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve caught him!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee: her eyes were dancing with + merriment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is it, mad woman? I’m sorry I ever spoke to you about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look between the pillars. In the third row; fourth from the end. You can + see his face now. Look!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Otis Yeere! Of all the improbable and impossible people! I don’t believe + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hsh! Wait till Mrs. Tarkass begins murdering Milton Wellings; and I’ll + tell you all about it. S-s-ss! That woman’s voice always reminds me of an + Underground train coming into Earl’s Court with the brakes on. Now listen. + It is really Otis Yeere.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I see, but does it follow that he is your property!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is! By right of trove. I found him, lonely and unbefriended, the very + next night after our talk, at the Dugald Delanes’ burra-khana. I liked his + eyes, and I talked to him. Next day he called. Next day we went for a ride + together, and to-day he’s tied to my ‘richshaw-wheels hand and foot. + You’ll see when the concert’s over. He doesn’t know I’m here yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank goodness you haven’t chosen a boy. What are you going to do with + him, assuming that you’ve got him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Assuming, indeed! Does a woman do I ever make a mistake in that sort of + thing? First’ Mrs. Hauksbee ticked off the items ostentatiously on her + little gloved fingers ‘First, my dear, I shall dress him properly. At + present his raiment is a disgrace, and he wears a dress-shirt like a + crumpled sheet of the Pioneer. Secondly, after I have made him + presentable, I shall form his manners his morals are above reproach.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You seem to have discovered a great deal about him considering the + shortness of your acquaintance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely you ought to know that the first proof a man gives of his interest + in a woman is by talking to her about his own sweet self. If the woman + listens without yawning, he begins to like her. If she flatters the + animal’s vanity, he ends by adoring her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In some cases.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind the exceptions. I know which one you are thinking of. Thirdly, + and lastly, after he is polished and made pretty, I shall, as you said, be + his guide, philosopher, and friend, and he shall become a success as great + a success as your friend. I always wondered how that man got on. Did The + Mussuck come to you with the Civil List and, dropping on one knee no, two + knees, a la Gibbon hand it to you and say, “Adorable angel, choose your + friend’s appointment”?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucy, your long experiences of the Military Department have demoralised + you. One doesn’t do that sort of thing on the Civil Side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No disrespect meant to Jack’s Service, my dear. I only asked for + information. Give me three months, and see what changes I shall work in my + prey.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go your own way since you must. But I’m sorry that I was weak enough to + suggest the amusement.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘“I am all discretion, and may be trusted to an in-fin-ite extent,”’ + quoted Mrs. Hauksbee from The Fallen Angel; and the conversation ceased + with Mrs. Tarkass’s last, long-drawn war-whoop. + </p> + <p> + Her bitterest enemies and she had many could hardly accuse Mrs. Hauksbee + of wasting her time. Otis Yeere was one of those wandering ‘dumb’ + characters, foredoomed through life to be nobody’s property. Ten years in + Her Majesty’s Bengal Civil Service, spent, for the most part, in + undesirable Districts, had given him little to be proud of, and nothing to + bring confidence. Old enough to have lost the first fine careless rapture + that showers on the immature ‘Stunt imaginary Commissionerships and Stars, + and sends him into the collar with coltish earnestness and abandon; too + young to be yet able to look back upon the progress he had made, and thank + Providence that under the conditions of the day he had come even so far, + he stood upon the dead-centre of his career. And when a man stands still + he feels the slightest impulse from without. Fortune had ruled that Otis + Yeere should be, for the first part of his service, one of the rank and + file who are ground up in the wheels of the Administration; losing heart + and soul, and mind and strength, in the process. Until steam replaces + manual power in the working of the Empire, there must always be this + percentage must always be the men who are used up, expended, in the mere + mechanical routine. For these promotion is far off and the mill-grind of + every day very instant. The Secretariats know them only by name; they are + not the picked men of the Districts with Divisions and Collectorates + awaiting them. They are simply the rank and file the food for fever + sharing with the ryot and the plough-bullock the honour of being the + plinth on which the State rests. The older ones have lost their + aspirations; the younger are putting theirs aside with a sigh. Both learn + to endure patiently until the end of the day. Twelve years in the rank and + file, men say, will sap the hearts of the bravest and dull the wits of the + most keen. + </p> + <p> + Out of this life Otis Yeere had fled for a few months; drifting, in the + hope of a little masculine society, into Simla. When his leave was over he + would return to his swampy, sour-green, under-manned Bengal district; to + the native Assistant, the native Doctor, the native Magistrate, the + steaming, sweltering Station, the ill-kempt City, and the undisguised + insolence of the Municipality that babbled away the lives of men. Life was + cheap, however. The soil spawned humanity, as it bred frogs in the Rains, + and the gap of the sickness of one season was filled to overflowing by the + fecundity of the next. Otis was unfeignedly thankful to lay down his work + for a little while and escape from the seething, whining, weakly hive, + impotent to help itself, but strong in its power to cripple, thwart, and + annoy the sunkeneyed man who, by official irony, was said to be ‘in + charge’ of it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew there were women-dowdies in Bengal. They come up here sometimes. + But I didn’t know that there were men-dowds, too.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, for the first time, it occurred to Otis Yeere that his clothes wore + rather the mark of the ages. It will be seen that his friendship with Mrs. + Hauksbee had made great strides. + </p> + <p> + As that lady truthfully says, a man is never so happy as when he is + talking about himself. From Otis Yeere’s lips Mrs. Hauksbee, before long, + learned everything that she wished to know about the subject of her + experiment: learned what manner of life he had led in what she vaguely + called ‘those awful cholera districts’; learned, too, but this knowledge + came later, what manner of life he had purposed to lead and what dreams he + had dreamed in the year of grace ‘77, before the reality had knocked the + heart out of him. Very pleasant are the shady bridle-paths round Prospect + Hill for the telling of such confidences. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not yet,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee to Mrs. Maliowe. ‘Not yet. I must wait until + the man is properly dressed, at least. Great heavens, is it possible that + he doesn’t know what an honour it is to be taken up by Me!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee did not reckon false modesty as one of her failings. + </p> + <p> + ‘Always with Mrs. Hauksbee!’ murmured Mrs. Mallowe, with her sweetest + smile, to Otis. ‘Oh you men, you men! Here are our Punjabis growling + because you’ve monopolised the nicest woman in Simla. They’ll tear you to + pieces on the Mall, some day, Mr. Yeere.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe rattled downhill, having satisfied herself, by a glance + through the fringe of her sunshade, of the effect of her words. + </p> + <p> + The shot went home. Of a surety Otis Yeere was somebody in this + bewildering whirl of Simla had monopolised the nicest woman in it, and the + Punjabis were growling. The notion justified a mild glow of vanity. He had + never looked upon his acquaintance with Mrs. Hauksbee as a matter for + general interest. + </p> + <p> + The knowledge of envy was a pleasant feeling to the man of no account. It + was intensified later in the day when a luncher at the Club said + spitefully, ‘Well, for a debilitated Ditcher, Yeere, you are going it. + Hasn’t any kind friend told you that she’s the most dangerous woman in + Simla?’ + </p> + <p> + Yeere chuckled and passed out. When, oh, when would his new clothes be + ready? He descended into the Mall to inquire; and Mrs. Hauksbee, coming + over the Church Ridge in her ‘rickshaw, looked down upon him approvingly. + ‘He’s learning to carry himself as if he were a man, instead of a piece of + furniture, and,’ she screwed up her eyes to see the better through the + sunlight ‘he is a man when he holds himself like that. O blessed Conceit, + what should we be without you?’ + </p> + <p> + With the new clothes came a new stock of self-confidence. Otis Yeere + discovered that he could enter a room without breaking into a gentle + perspiration could cross one, even to talk to Mrs. Hauksbee, as though + rooms were meant to be crossed. He was for the first time in nine years + proud of himself, and contented with his life, satisfied with his new + clothes, and rejoicing in the friendship of Mrs. Hauksbee. + </p> + <p> + ‘Conceit is what the poor fellow wants,’ she said in confidence to Mrs. + Mallowe. ‘I believe they must use Civilians to plough the fields with in + Lower Bengal. You see I have to begin from the very beginning haven’t I? + But you’ll admit, won’t you, dear, that he is immensely improved since I + took him in hand. Only give me a little more time and he won’t know + himself.’ + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Yeere was rapidly beginning to forget what he had been. One of his + own rank and file put the matter brutally when he asked Yeere, in + reference to nothing, ‘And who has been making you a Member of Council, + lately? You carry the side of half-a-dozen of ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I I’m awf’ly sorry. I didn’t mean it, you know,’ said Yeere + apologetically. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’ll be no holding you,’ continued the old stager grimly. ‘Climb + down, Otis climb down, and get all that beastly affectation knocked out of + you with fever! Three thousand a month wouldn’t support it.’ + </p> + <p> + Yeere repeated the incident to Mrs. Hauksbee. He had come to look upon her + as his Mother Confessor. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you apologised!’ she said. ‘Oh, shame! I hate a man who apologises. + Never apologise for what your friend called “side.” Never! It’s a man’s + business to be insolent and overbearing until he meets with a stronger. + Now, you bad boy, listen to me.’ + </p> + <p> + Simply and straightforwardly, as the ‘rickshaw loitered round Jakko, Mrs. + Hauksbee preached to Otis Yeere the Great Gospel of Conceit, illustrating + it with living pictures encountered during their Sunday afternoon stroll. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious!’ she ended with the personal argument, ‘you’ll apologise + next for being my attache—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never!’ said Otis Yeere. ‘That’s another thing altogether. I shall always + be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s coming?’ thought Mrs. Hauksbee. + </p> + <p> + ‘Proud of that,’ said Otis. + </p> + <p> + ‘Safe for the present,’ she said to herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I’m afraid I have grown conceited. Like Jeshurun, you know. When he + waxed fat, then he kicked. It’s the having no worry on one’s mind and the + Hill air, I suppose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hill air, indeed!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee to herself. ‘He’d have been hiding + in the Club till the last day of his leave, if I hadn’t discovered him.’ + And aloud, + </p> + <p> + ‘Why shouldn’t you be? You have every right to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I! Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, hundreds of things. I’m not going to waste this lovely afternoon by + explaining; but I know you have. What was that heap of manuscript you + showed me about the grammar of the aboriginal what’s their names?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gullals. A piece of nonsense. I’ve far too much work to do to bother over + Gullals now. You should see my District. Come down with your husband some + day and I’ll show you round. Such a lovely place in the Rains! A sheet of + water with the railway-embankment and the snakes sticking out, and, in the + summer, green flies and green squash. The people would die of fear if you + shook a dogwhip at ‘em. But they know you’re forbidden to do that, so they + conspire to make your life a burden to you. My District’s worked by some + man at Darjiling, on the strength of a native pleader’s false reports. Oh, + it’s a heavenly place!’ + </p> + <p> + Otis Yeere laughed bitterly. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s not the least necessity that you should stay in it. Why do you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I must. How’m I to get out of it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How! In a hundred and fifty ways. If there weren’t so many people on the + road I’d like to box your ears. Ask, my dear boy, ask! Look! There is + young Hexarly with six years’ service and half your talents. He asked for + what he wanted, and he got it. See, down by the Convent! There’s + McArthurson, who has come to his present position by asking sheer, + downright asking after he had pushed himself out of the rank and file. One + man is as good as another in your service believe me. I’ve seen Simla for + more seasons than I care to think about. Do you suppose men are chosen for + appointments because of their special fitness beforehand? You have all + passed a high test what do you call it? in the beginning, and, except for + the few who have gone altogether to the bad, you can all work hard. Asking + does the rest. Call it cheek, call it insolence, call it anything you + like, but ask! Men argue yes, I know what men say that a man, by the mere + audacity of his request, must have some good in him. A weak man doesn’t + say: “Give me this and that.” He whines: “Why haven’t I been given this + and that?” If you were in the Army, I should say learn to spin plates or + play a tambourine with your toes. As it is ask! You belong to a Service + that ought to be able to command the Channel Fleet, or set a leg at twenty + minutes’ notice, and yet you hesitate over asking to escape from a squashy + green district where you admit you are not master. Drop the Bengal + Government altogether. Even Darjiling is a little out-of-the-way hole. I + was there once, and the rents were extortionate. Assert yourself. Get the + Government of India to take you over. Try to get on the Frontier, where + every man has a grand chance if he can trust himself. Go somewhere! Do + something! You have twice the wits and three times the presence of the men + up here, and, and’ Mrs. Hauksbee paused for breath; then continued ‘and in + any way you look at it, you ought to. You who could go so far!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Yeere, rather taken aback by the unexpected + eloquence. ‘I haven’t such a good opinion of myself.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not strictly Platonic, but it was Policy. Mrs. Hauksbee laid her + hand lightly upon the ungloved paw that rested on the turned-back + ‘rickshaw hood, and, looking the man full in the face, said tenderly, + almost too tenderly, ‘I believe in you if you mistrust yourself. Is that + enough, my friend?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is enough,’ answered Otis very solemnly. + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a long time, redreaming the dreams that he had dreamed + eight years ago, but through them all ran, as sheet-lightning through + golden cloud, the light of Mrs. Hauksbee’s violet eyes. + </p> + <p> + Curious and impenetrable are the mazes of Simla life the only existence in + this desolate land worth the living. Gradually it went abroad among men + and women, in the pauses between dance, play, and Gymkhana, that Otis + Yeere, the man with the newly-lit light of self-confidence in his eyes, + had ‘done something decent’ in the wilds whence he came. He had brought an + erring Municipality to reason, appropriated the funds on his own + responsibility, and saved the lives of hundreds. He knew more about the + Gullals than any living man. Had a vast knowledge of the aboriginal + tribes; was, in spite of his juniority, the greatest authority on the + aboriginal Gullals. No one quite knew who or what the Gullals were till + The Mussuck, who had been calling on Mrs. Hauksbee, and prided himself + upon picking people’s brains, explained they were a tribe of ferocious + hillmen, somewhere near Sikkim, whose friendship even the Great Indian + Empire would find it worth her while to secure. Now we know that Otis + Yeere had showed Mrs. Hauksbee his MS. notes of six years’ standing on + these same Gullals. He had told her, too, how, sick and shaken with the + fever their negligence had bred, crippled by the loss of his pet clerk, + and savagely angry at the desolation in his charge, he had once damned the + collective eyes of his ‘intelligent local board’ for a set of haramzadas. + Which act of ‘brutal and tyrannous oppression’ won him a Reprimand Royal + from the Bengal Government; but in the anecdote as amended for Northern + consumption we find no record of this. Hence we are forced to conclude + that Mrs. Hauksbee edited his reminiscences before sowing them in idle + ears, ready, as she well knew, to exaggerate good or evil. And Otis Yeere + bore himself as befitted the hero of many tales. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can talk to me when you don’t fall into a brown study. Talk now, and + talk your brightest and best,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee. + </p> + <p> + Otis needed no spur. Look to a man who has the counsel of a woman of or + above the world to back him. So long as he keeps his head, he can meet + both sexes on equal ground an advantage never intended by Providence, who + fashioned Man on one day and Woman on another, in sign that neither should + know more than a very little of the other’s life. Such a man goes far, or, + the counsel being withdrawn, collapses suddenly while his world seeks the + reason. + </p> + <p> + Generalled by Mrs. Hauksbee, who, again, had all Mrs. Mallowe’s wisdom at + her disposal, proud of himself and, in the end, believing in himself + because he was believed in, Otis Yeere stood ready for any fortune that + might befall, certain that it would be good. He would fight for his own + hand, and intended that this second struggle should lead to better issue + than the first helpless surrender of the bewildered ‘Stunt. + </p> + <p> + What might have happened it is impossible to say. This lamentable thing + befell, bred directly by a statement of Mrs. Hauksbee that she would spend + the next season in Darjiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you certain of that?’ said Otis Yeere. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite. We’re writing about a house now.’ + </p> + <p> + Otis Yeere ‘stopped dead,’ as Mrs. Hauksbee put it in discussing the + relapse with Mrs. Mallowe. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has behaved,’ she said angrily, ‘just like Captain Kerrington’s pony + only Otis is a donkey at the last Gymkhana. Planted his forefeet and + refused to go on another step. Polly, my man’s going to disappoint me. + What shall I do?’ + </p> + <p> + As a rule, Mrs. Mallowe does not approve of staring, but on this occasion + she opened her eyes to the utmost. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have managed cleverly so far,’ she said. ‘Speak to him, and ask him + what he means.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will at to-night’s dance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No o, not at a dance,’ said Mrs. Mallowe cautiously. ‘Men are never + themselves quite at dances. Better wait till to-morrow morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense. If he’s going to ‘vert in this insane way there isn’t a day to + lose. Are you going? No? Then sit up for me, there’s a dear. I shan’t stay + longer than supper under any circumstances.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe waited through the evening, looking long and earnestly into + the fire, and sometimes smiling to herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! oh! oh! The man’s an idiot! A raving, positive idiot! I’m sorry I + ever saw him!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee burst into Mrs. Mallowe’s house, at midnight, almost in + tears. + </p> + <p> + ‘What in the world has happened?’ said Mrs. Mallowe, but her eyes showed + that she had guessed an answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Happened! Everything has happened! He was there. I went to him and said, + “Now, what does this nonsense mean?” Don’t laugh, dear, I can’t bear it. + But you know what I mean I said. Then it was a square, and I sat it out + with him and wanted an explanation, and he said Oh! I haven’t patience + with such idiots! You know what I said about going to Darjiling next year? + It doesn’t matter to me where I go. I’d have changed the Station and lost + the rent to have saved this. He said, in so many words, that he wasn’t + going to try to work up any more, because because he would be shifted into + a province away from Darjiling, and his own District, where these + creatures are, is within a day’s journey.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah hh!’ said Mrs. Mallowe, in a tone of one who has successfully tracked + an obscure word through a large dictionary. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ever hear of anything so mad so absurd? And he had the ball at + his feet. He had only to kick it! I would have made him anything! Anything + in the wide world. He could have gone to the world’s end. I would have + helped him. I made him, didn’t I, Polly? Didn’t I create that man? Doesn’t + he owe everything to me? And to reward me, just when everything was nicely + arranged, by this lunacy that spoilt everything!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very few men understand your devotion thoroughly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Polly, don’t laugh at me! I give men up from this hour. I could have + killed him then and there. What right had this man this Thing I had picked + out of his filthy paddy—fields to make love to me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He did that, did he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He did. I don’t remember half he said, I was so angry. Oh, but such a + funny thing happened! I can’t help laughing at it now, though I felt + nearly ready to cry with rage. He raved and I stormed I’m afraid we must + have made an awful noise in our kala juggah. Protect my character, dear, + if it’s all over Simla by to-morrow and then he bobbed forward in the + middle of this insanity I firmly believe the man’s demented and kissed + me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Morals above reproach,’ purred Mrs. Mallowe. + </p> + <p> + ‘So they were so they are! It was the most absurd kiss. I don’t believe + he’d ever kissed a woman in his life before. I threw my head back, and it + was a sort of slidy, pecking dab, just on the end of the chin here.’ Mrs. + Hauksbee tapped her masculine little chin with her fan. ‘Then, of course, + I was furiously angry, and told him that he was no gentleman, and I was + sorry I’d ever met him, and so on. He was crushed so easily then I + couldn’t be very angry. Then I came away straight to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was this before or after supper?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! before oceans before. Isn’t it perfectly disgusting?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me think. I withhold judgment till tomorrow. Morning brings counsel.’ + </p> + <p> + But morning brought only a servant with a dainty bouquet of Annandale + roses for Mrs. Hauksbee to wear at the dance at Viceregal Lodge that + night. + </p> + <p> + ‘He doesn’t seem to be very penitent,’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘What’s the + billet-doux in the centre?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee opened the neatly-folded note, another accomplishment that + she had taught Otis, read it, and groaned tragically. + </p> + <p> + ‘Last wreck of a feeble intellect! Poetry! Is it his own, do you think? + Oh, that I ever built my hopes on such a maudlin idiot!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. It’s a quotation from Mrs. Browning, and in view of the facts of the + case, as Jack says, uncommonly well chosen. Listen + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sweet, thou hast trod on a heart, + Pass! There’s a world full of men; + And women as fair as thou art + Must do such things now and then. + Thou only hast stepped unaware + Malice not one can impute; + And why should a heart have been there, + In the way of a fair woman’s foot? +</pre> + <p> + ‘I didn’t I didn’t I didn’t!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee angrily, her eyes filling + with tears; ‘there was no malice at all. Oh, it’s too vexatious!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve misunderstood the compliment,’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘He clears you + completely and ahem I should think by this, that he has cleared completely + too. My experience of men is that when they begin to quote poetry they are + going to flit. Like swans singing before they die, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Polly, you take my sorrows in a most unfeeling way.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I? Is it so terrible? If he’s hurt your vanity, I should say that + you’ve done a certain amount of damage to his heart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you can never tell about a man!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AT THE PIT’S MOUTH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Men say it was a stolen tide + The Lord that sent it He knows all, + But in mine ear will aye abide + The message that the bells let fall— + And awesome bells they were to me, + That in the dark rang, ‘Enderby.’ + —Jean Ingelow +</pre> + <p> + Once upon a time there was a Man and his Wife and a Tertium Quid. + </p> + <p> + All three were unwise, but the Wife was the unwisest. The Man should have + looked after his Wife, who should have avoided the Tertium Quid, who, + again, should have married a wife of his own, after clean and open + flirtations, to which nobody can possibly object, round Jakko or + Observatory Hill. When you see a young man with his pony in a white lather + and his hat on the back of his head, flying downhill at fifteen miles an + hour to meet a girl who will be properly surprised to meet him, you + naturally approve of that young man, and wish him Staff appointments, and + take an interest in his welfare, and, as the proper time comes, give them + sugar-tongs or side-saddles according to your means and generosity. + </p> + <p> + The Tertium Quid flew downhill on horseback, but it was to meet the Man’s + Wife; and when he flew uphill it was for the same end. The Man was in the + Plains, earning money for his Wife to spend on dresses and + four-hundred-rupee bracelets, and inexpensive luxuries of that kind. He + worked very hard, and sent her a letter or a post-card daily. She also + wrote to him daily, and said that she was longing for him to come up to + Simla. The Tertium Quid used to lean over her shoulder and laugh as she + wrote the notes. Then the two would ride to the Post-office together. + </p> + <p> + Now, Simla is a strange place and its customs are peculiar; nor is any man + who has not spent at least ten seasons there qualified to pass judgment on + circumstantial evidence, which is the most untrustworthy in the Courts. + For these reasons, and for others which need not appear, I decline to + state positively whether there was anything irretrievably wrong in the + relations between the Man’s Wife and the Tertium Quid. If there was, and + hereon you must form your own opinion, it was the Man’s Wife’s fault. She + was kittenish in her manners, wearing generally an air of soft and fluffy + innocence. But she was deadlily learned and evil-instructed; and, now and + again, when the mask dropped, men saw this, shuddered and almost drew + back. Men are occasionally particular, and the least particular men are + always the most exacting. + </p> + <p> + Simla is eccentric in its fashion of treating friendships. Certain + attachments which have set and crystallised through half-a-dozen seasons + acquire almost the sanctity of the marriage bond, and are revered as such. + Again, certain attachments equally old, and, to all appearance, equally + venerable, never seem to win any recognised official status; while a + chance-sprung acquaintance, not two months born, steps into the place + which by right belongs to the senior. There is no law reducible to print + which regulates these affairs. + </p> + <p> + Some people have a gift which secures them infinite toleration, and others + have not. The Man’s Wife had not. If she looked over the garden wall, for + instance, women taxed her with stealing their husbands. She complained + pathetically that she was not allowed to choose her own friends. When she + put up her big white muff to her lips, and gazed over it and under her + eyebrows at you as she said this thing, you felt that she had been + infamously misjudged, and that all the other women’s instincts were all + wrong; which was absurd. She was not allowed to own the Tertium Quid in + peace; and was so strangely constructed that she would not have enjoyed + peace had she been so permitted. She preferred some semblance of intrigue + to cloak even her most commonplace actions. + </p> + <p> + After two months of riding, first round Jakko, then Elysium, then Summer + Hill, then Observatory Hill, then under Jutogh, and lastly up and down the + Cart Road as far as the Tara Devi gap in the dusk, she said to the Tertium + Quid, ‘Frank, people say we are too much together, and people are so + horrid.’ + </p> + <p> + The Tertium Quid pulled his moustache, and replied that horrid people were + unworthy of the consideration of nice people. + </p> + <p> + ‘But they have done more than talk they have written written to my hubby + I’m sure of it,’ said the Man’s Wife, and she pulled a letter from her + husband out of her saddle-pocket and gave it to the Tertium Quid. + </p> + <p> + It was an honest letter, written by an honest man, then stewing in the + Plains on two hundred rupees a month (for he allowed his wife eight + hundred and fifty), and in a silk banian and cotton trousers. It said + that, perhaps, she had not thought of the unwisdom of allowing her name to + be so generally coupled with the Tertium Quid’s; that she was too much of + a child to understand the dangers of that sort of thing; that he, her + husband, was the last man in the world to interfere jealously with her + little amusements and interests, but that it would be better were she to + drop the Tertium Quid quietly and for her husband’s sake. The letter was + sweetened with many pretty little pet names, and it amused the Tertium + Quid considerably. He and She laughed over it, so that you, fifty yards + away, could see their shoulders shaking while the horses slouched along + side by side. + </p> + <p> + Their conversation was not worth reporting. The upshot of it was that, + next day, no one saw the Man’s Wife and the Tertium Quid together. They + had both gone down to the Cemetery, which, as a rule, is only visited + officially by the inhabitants of Simla. + </p> + <p> + A Simla funeral with the clergyman riding, the mourners riding, and the + coffin creaking as it swings between the bearers, is one of the most + depressing things on this earth, particularly when the procession passes + under the wet, dank dip beneath the Rockcliffe Hotel, where the sun is + shut out, and all the hill streams are wailing and weeping together as + they go down the valleys. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally folk tend the graves, but we in India shift and are + transferred so often that, at the end of the second year, the Dead have no + friend only acquaintances who are far too busy amusing themselves up the + hill to attend to old partners. The idea of using a Cemetery as a + rendezvous is distinctly a feminine one. A man would have said simply, + ‘Let people talk. We’ll go down the Mall.’ A woman is made differently, + especially if she be such a woman as the Man’s Wife. She and the Tertium + Quid enjoyed each other’s society among the graves of men and women whom + they had known and danced with aforetime. + </p> + <p> + They used to take a big horse-blanket and sit on the grass a little to the + left of the lower end, where there is a dip in the ground, and where the + occupied graves stop short and the ready-made ones are not ready. Each + well-regulated Indian Cemetery keeps half-a-dozen graves permanently open + for contingencies and incidental wear and tear. In the Hills these are + more usually baby’s size, because children who come up weakened and sick + from the Plains often succumb to the effects of the Rains in the Hills or + get pneumonia from their ayahs taking them through damp pine-woods after + the sun has set. In Cantonments, of course, the man’s size is more in + request; these arrangements varying with the climate and population. + </p> + <p> + One day when the Man’s Wife and the Tertium Quid had just arrived in the + Cemetery, they saw some coolies breaking ground. They had marked out a + full-size grave, and the Tertium Quid asked them whether any Sahib was + sick. They said that they did not know; but it was an order that they + should dig a Sahib’s grave. + </p> + <p> + ‘Work away,’ said the Tertium Quid, ‘and let’s see how it’s done.’ + </p> + <p> + The coolies worked away, and the Man’s Wife and the Tertium Quid watched + and talked for a couple of hours while the grave was being deepened. Then + a coolie, taking the earth in baskets as it was thrown up, jumped over the + grave. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s queer,’ said the Tertium Quid. ‘Where’s my ulster?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s queer?’ said the Man’s Wife. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have got a chill down my back just as if a goose had walked over my + grave.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you look at the thing, then?’ said the Man’s Wife. ‘Let us go.’ + </p> + <p> + The Tertium Quid stood at the head of the grave, and stared without + answering for a space. Then he said, dropping a pebble down, ‘It is nasty + and cold: horribly cold. I don’t think I shall come to the Cemetery any + more. I don’t think grave-digging is cheerful.’ + </p> + <p> + The two talked and agreed that the Cemetery was depressing. They also + arranged for a ride next day out from the Cemetery through the Mashobra + Tunnel up to Fagoo and back, because all the world was going to a + garden-party at Viceregal Lodge, and all the people of Mashobra would go + too. + </p> + <p> + Coming up the Cemetery road, the Tertium Quid’s horse tried to bolt + uphill, being tired with standing so long, and managed to strain a back + sinew. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall have to take the mare to-morrow,’ said the Tertium Quid, ‘and she + will stand nothing heavier than a snaffle.’ + </p> + <p> + They made their arrangements to meet in the Cemetery, after allowing all + the Mashobra people time to pass into Simla. That night it rained heavily, + and, next day, when the Tertium Quid came to the trysting-place, he saw + that the new grave had a foot of water in it, the ground being a tough and + sour clay. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jove! That looks beastly,’ said the Tertium Quid. ‘Fancy being boarded up + and dropped into that well!’ + </p> + <p> + They then started off to Fagoo, the mare playing with the snaffle and + picking her way as though she were shod with satin, and the sun shining + divinely. The road below Mashobra to Fagoo is officially styled the + Himalayan-Thibet road; but in spite of its name it is not much more than + six feet wide in most places, and the drop into the valley below may be + anything between one and two thousand feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we’re going to Thibet,’ said the Man’s Wife merrily, as the horses + drew near to Fagoo. She was riding on the cliff-side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Into Thibet,’ said the Tertium Quid, ‘ever so far from people who say + horrid things, and hubbies who write stupid letters. With you to the end + of the world!’ + </p> + <p> + A coolie carrying a log of wood came round a corner, and the mare went + wide to avoid him forefeet in and haunches out, as a sensible mare should + go. + </p> + <p> + ‘To the world’s end,’ said the Man’s Wife, and looked unspeakable things + over her near shoulder at the Tertium Quid. + </p> + <p> + He was smiling, but, while she looked, the smile froze stiff as it were on + his face, and changed to a nervous grin the sort of grin men wear when + they are not quite easy in their saddles. The mare seemed to be sinking by + the stern, and her nostrils cracked while she was trying to realise what + was happening. The rain of the night before had rotted the drop-side of + the Himalayan-Thibet Road, and it was giving way under her. ‘What are you + doing?’ said the Man’s Wife. The Tertium Quid gave no answer. He grinned + nervously and set his spurs into the mare, who rapped with her forefeet on + the road, and the struggle began. The Man’s Wife screamed, ‘Oh, Frank, get + off!’ + </p> + <p> + But the Tertium Quid was glued to the saddle his face blue and white and + he looked into the Man’s Wife’s eyes. Then the Man’s Wife clutched at the + mare’s head and caught her by the nose instead of the bridle. The brute + threw up her head and went down with a scream, the Tertium Quid upon her, + and the nervous grin still set on his face. + </p> + <p> + The Man’s Wife heard the tinkle-tinkle of little stones and loose earth + falling off the roadway, and the sliding roar of the man and horse going + down. Then everything was quiet, and she called on Frank to leave his mare + and walk up. But Frank did not answer. He was underneath the mare, nine + hundred feet below, spoiling a patch of Indian corn. + </p> + <p> + As the revellers came back from Viceregal Lodge in the mists of the + evening, they met a temporarily insane woman, on a temporarily mad horse, + swinging round the corners, with her eyes and her mouth open, and her head + like the head of a Medusa. She was stopped by a man at the risk of his + life, and taken out of the saddle, a limp heap, and put on the bank to + explain herself. This wasted twenty minutes, and then she was sent home in + a lady’s ‘rickshaw, still with her mouth open and her hands picking at her + riding-gloves. + </p> + <p> + She was in bed through the following three days, which were rainy; so she + missed attending the funeral of the Tertium Quid, who was lowered into + eighteen inches of water, instead of the twelve to which he had first + objected. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A WAYSIDE COMEDY + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Because to every purpose there is time and judgment, therefore + the misery of man is great upon him. + —Eccles. viii. 6. +</pre> + <p> + Fate and the Government of India have turned the Station of Kashima into a + prison; and, because there is no help for the poor souls who are now lying + there in torment, I write this story, praying that the Government of India + may be moved to scatter the European population to the four winds. + </p> + <p> + Kashima is bounded on all sides by the rocktipped circle of the Dosehri + hills. In Spring, it is ablaze with roses; in Summer, the roses die and + the hot winds blow from the hills; in Autumn, the white mists from the + jhils cover the place as with water, and in Winter the frosts nip + everything young and tender to earth-level. There is but one view in + Kashima a stretch of perfectly flat pasture and plough-land, running up to + the gray-blue scrub of the Dosehri hills. + </p> + <p> + There are no amusements, except snipe and tiger shooting; but the tigers + have been long since hunted from their lairs in the rock-caves, and the + snipe only come once a year. Narkarra one hundred and forty-three miles by + road is the nearest station to Kashima. But Kashima never goes to + Narkarra, where there are at least twelve English people. It stays within + the circle of the Dosehri hills. + </p> + <p> + All Kashima acquits Mrs. Vansuythen of any intention to do harm; but all + Kashima knows that she, and she alone, brought about their pain. + </p> + <p> + Boulte, the Engineer, Mrs. Boulte, and Captain Kurrell know this. They are + the English population of Kashima, if we except Major Vansuythen, who is + of no importance whatever, and Mrs. Vansuythen, who is the most important + of all. + </p> + <p> + You must remember, though you will not understand, that all laws weaken in + a small and hidden community where there is no public opinion. When a man + is absolutely alone in a Station he runs a certain risk of falling into + evil ways. This risk is multiplied by every addition to the population up + to twelve the Jury-number. After that, fear and consequent restraint + begin, and human action becomes less grotesquely jerky. + </p> + <p> + There was deep peace in Kashima till Mrs. Vansuythen arrived. She was a + charming woman, every one said so everywhere; and she charmed every one. + In spite of this, or, perhaps, because of this, since Fate is so perverse, + she cared only for one man, and he was Major Vansuythen. Had she been + plain or stupid, this matter would have been intelligible to Kashima. But + she was a fair woman, with very still gray eyes, the colour of a lake just + before the light of the sun touches it. No man who had seen those eyes + could, later on, explain what fashion of woman she was to look upon. The + eyes dazzled him. Her own sex said that she was ‘not bad-looking, but + spoilt by pretending to be so grave.’ And yet her gravity was natural. It + was not her habit to smile. She merely went through life, looking at those + who passed; and the women objected while the men fell down and worshipped. + </p> + <p> + She knows and is deeply sorry for the evil she has done to Kashima; but + Major Vansuythen cannot understand why Mrs. Boulte does not drop in to + afternoon tea at least three times a week. ‘When there are only two women + in one Station, they ought to see a great deal of each other,’ says Major + Vansuythen. + </p> + <p> + Long and long before ever Mrs. Vansuythen came out of those far-away + places where there is society and amusement, Kurrell had discovered that + Mrs. Boulte was the one woman in the world for him and you dare not blame + them. Kashima was as out of the world as Heaven or the Other Place, and + the Dosehri hills kept their secret well. Boulte had no concern in the + matter. He was in camp for a fortnight at a time. He was a hard, heavy + man, and neither Mrs. Boulte nor Kurrell pitied him. They had all Kashima + and each other for their very, very own; and Kashima was the Garden of + Eden in those days. When Boulte returned from his wanderings he would slap + Kurrell between the shoulders and call him ‘old fellow,’ and the three + would dine together. Kashima was happy then when the judgment of God + seemed almost as distant as Narkarra or the railway that ran down to the + sea. But the Government sent Major Vansuythen to Kashima, and with him + came his wife. + </p> + <p> + The etiquette of Kashima is much the same as that of a desert island. When + a stranger is cast away there, all hands go down to the shore to make him + welcome. Kashima assembled at the masonry platform close to the Narkarra + Road, and spread tea for the Vansuythens. That ceremony was reckoned a + formal call, and made them free of the Station, its rights and privileges. + When the Vansuythens settled down they gave a tiny house-warming to all + Kashima; and that made Kashima free of their house, according to the + immemorial usage of the Station. + </p> + <p> + Then the Rains came, when no one could go into camp, and the Narkarra Road + was washed away by the Kasun River, and in the cup-like pastures of + Kashima the cattle waded knee-deep. The clouds dropped down from the + Dosehri hills and covered everything. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the Rains Boulte’s manner towards his wife changed and + became demonstratively affectionate. They had been married twelve years, + and the change startled Mrs. Boulte, who hated her husband with the hate + of a woman who has met with nothing but kindness from her mate, and, in + the teeth of this kindness, has done him a great wrong. Moreover, she had + her own trouble to fight with her watch to keep over her own property, + Kurrell. For two months the Rains had hidden the Dosehri hills and many + other things besides; but, when they lifted, they showed Mrs. Boulte that + her man among men, her Ted for she called him Ted in the old days when + Boulte was out of earshot was slipping the links of the allegiance. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Vansuythen Woman has taken him,’ Mrs. Boulte said to herself; and + when Boulte was away, wept over her belief, in the face of the + over-vehement blandishments of Ted. Sorrow in Kashima is as fortunate as + Love because there is nothing to weaken it save the flight of Time. Mrs. + Boulte had never breathed her suspicion to Kurrell because she was not + certain; and her nature led her to be very certain before she took steps + in any direction. That is why she behaved as she did. + </p> + <p> + Boulte came into the house one evening, and leaned against the door-posts + of the drawing-room, chewing his moustache. Mrs. Boulte was putting some + flowers into a vase. There is a pretence of civilisation even in Kashima. + </p> + <p> + ‘Little woman,’ said Boulte quietly, ‘do you care for me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Immensely,’ said she, with a laugh. ‘Can you ask it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I’m serious,’ said Boulte. ‘Do you care for me?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boulte dropped the flowers, and turned round quickly. ‘Do you want an + honest answer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye-es, I’ve asked for it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boulte spoke in a low, even voice for five minutes, very distinctly, + that there might be no misunderstanding her meaning. When Samson broke the + pillars of Gaza, he did a little thing, and one not to be compared to the + deliberate pulling down of a woman’s homestead about her own ears. There + was no wise female friend to advise Mrs. Boulte, the singularly cautious + wife, to hold her hand. She struck at Boulte’s heart, because her own was + sick with suspicion of Kurrell, and worn out with the long strain of + watching alone through the Rains. There was no plan or purpose in her + speaking. The sentences made themselves; and Boulte listened, leaning + against the door-post with his hands in his pockets. When all was over, + and Mrs. Boulte began to breathe through her nose before breaking out into + tears, he laughed and stared straight in front of him at the Dosehri + hills. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that all?’ he said. ‘Thanks, I only wanted to know, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to do?’ said the woman, between her sobs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do! Nothing. What should I do? Kill Kurrell, or send you Home, or apply + for leave to get a divorce? It’s two days’ treck into Narkarra.’ He + laughed again and went on: ‘I’ll tell you what you can do. You can ask + Kurrell to dinner tomorrow no, on Thursday, that will allow you time to + pack and you can bolt with him. I give you my word I won’t follow.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up his helmet and went out of the room, and Mrs. Boulte sat till + the moonlight streaked the floor, thinking and thinking and thinking. She + had done her best upon the spur of the moment to pull the house down; but + it would not fall. Moreover, she could not understand her husband, and she + was afraid. Then the folly of her useless truthfulness struck her, and she + was ashamed to write to Kurrell, saying, ‘I have gone mad and told + everything. My husband says that I am free to elope with you. Get a dek + for Thursday, and we will fly after dinner.’ There was a cold-bloodedness + about that procedure which did not appeal to her. So she sat still in her + own house and thought. + </p> + <p> + At dinner-time Boulte came back from his walk, white and worn and haggard, + and the woman was touched at his distress. As the evening wore on she + muttered some expression of sorrow, something approaching to contrition. + Boulte came out of a brown study and said, ‘Oh, that! I wasn’t thinking + about that. By the way, what does Kurrell say to the elopement?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t seen him,’ said Mrs. Boulte. ‘Good God, is that all?’ + </p> + <p> + But Boulte was not listening and her sentence ended in a gulp. + </p> + <p> + The next day brought no comfort to Mrs. Boulte, for Kurrell did not + appear, and the new lift that she, in the five minutes’ madness of the + previous evening, had hoped to build out of the ruins of the old, seemed + to be no nearer. + </p> + <p> + Boulte ate his breakfast, advised her to see her Arab pony fed in the + verandah, and went out. The morning wore through, and at mid-day the + tension became unendurable. Mrs. Boulte could not cry. She had finished + her crying in the night, and now she did not want to be left alone. + Perhaps the Vansuythen Woman would talk to her; and, since talking opens + the heart, perhaps there might be some comfort to be found in her company. + She was the only other woman in the Station. + </p> + <p> + In Kashima there are no regular calling-hours. Every one can drop in upon + every one else at pleasure. Mrs. Boulte put on a big terai hat, and walked + across to the Vansuythens’ house to borrow last week’s Queen. The two + compounds touched, and instead of going up the drive, she crossed through + the gap in the cactus-hedge, entering the house from the back. As she + passed through the dining-room, she heard, behind the purdah that cloaked + the drawing-room door, her husband’s voice, saying, + </p> + <p> + ‘But on my Honour! On my Soul and Honour, I tell you she doesn’t care for + me. She told me so last night. I would have told you then if Vansuythen + hadn’t been with you. If it is for her sake that you’ll have nothing to + say to me, you can make your mind easy. It’s Kurrell.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ said Mrs. Vansuythen, with a hysterical little laugh. ‘Kurrell! + Oh, it can’t be! You two must have made some horrible mistake. Perhaps you + you lost your temper, or misunderstood, or something. Things can’t be as + wrong as you say.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vansuythen had shifted her defence to avoid the man’s pleading, and + was desperately trying to keep him to a side-issue. + </p> + <p> + ‘There must be some mistake,’ she insisted, ‘and it can be all put right + again.’ + </p> + <p> + Boulte laughed grimly. + </p> + <p> + ‘It can’t be Captain Kurrell! He told me that he had never taken the least + the least interest in your wife, Mr. Boulte. Oh, do listen! He said he had + not. He swore he had not,’ said Mrs. Vansuythen. + </p> + <p> + The purdah rustled, and the speech was cut short by the entry of a little + thin woman, with big rings round her eyes. Mrs. Vansuythen stood up with a + gasp. + </p> + <p> + ‘What was that you said?’ asked Mrs. Boulte. ‘Never mind that man. What + did Ted say to you? What did he say to you? What did he say to you?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vansuythen sat down helplessly on the sofa, overborne by the trouble + of her questioner. + </p> + <p> + ‘He said I can’t remember exactly what he said but I understood him to say + that is But, really, Mrs. Boulte, isn’t it rather a strange question?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you tell me what he said?’ repeated Mrs. Boulte. Even a tiger will + fly before a bear robbed of her whelps, and Mrs. Vansuythen was only an + ordinarily good woman. She began in a sort of desperation: ‘Well, he said + that the never cared for you at all, and, of course, there was not the + least reason why he should have, and and that was all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You said he swore he had not cared for me. Was that true?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Vansuythen very softly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Boulte wavered for an instant where she stood, and then fell forward + fainting. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did I tell you?’ said Boulte, as though the conversation had been + unbroken. ‘You can see for yourself. She cares for him.’ The light began + to break into his dull mind, and he went on, ‘And what was he saying to + you?’ + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Vansuythen, with no heart for explanations or impassioned + protestations, was kneeling over Mrs. Boulte. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you brute!’ she cried. ‘Are all men like this? Help me to get her + into my room and her face is cut against the table. Oh, will you be quiet, + and help me to carry her? I hate you, and I hate Captain Kurrell. Lift her + up carefully, and now go! Go away!’ + </p> + <p> + Boulte carried his wife into Mrs. Vansuythen’s bedroom, and departed + before the storm of that lady’s wrath and disgust, impenitent and burning + with jealousy. Kurrell had been making love to Mrs. Vansuythen would do + Vansuythen as great a wrong as he had done Boulte, who caught himself + considering whether Mrs. Vansuythen would faint if she discovered that the + man she loved had forsworn her. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of these meditations, Kurrell came cantering along the road + and pulled up with a cheery ‘Good-mornin’. ‘Been mashing Mrs. Vansuythen + as usual, eh? Bad thing for a sober, married man, that. What will Mrs. + Boulte say?’ + </p> + <p> + Boulte raised his head and said slowly, ‘Oh, you liar!’ Kurrell’s face + changed. ‘What’s that?’ he asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing much,’ said Boulte. ‘Has my wife told you that you two are free + to go off whenever you please? She has been good enough to explain the + situation to me. You’ve been a true friend to me, Kurrell old man haven’t + you?’ + </p> + <p> + Kurrell groaned, and tried to frame some sort of idiotic sentence about + being willing to give ‘satisfaction.’ But his interest in the woman was + dead, had died out in the Rains, and, mentally, he was abusing her for her + amazing indiscretion. It would have been so easy to have broken off the + thing gently and by degrees, and now he was saddled with Boulte’s voice + recalled him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think I should get any satisfaction from killing you, and I’m + pretty sure you’d get none from killing me.’ + </p> + <p> + Then in a querulous tone, ludicrously disproportioned to his wrongs, + Boulte added, + </p> + <p> + ‘Seems rather a pity that you haven’t the decency to keep to the woman, + now you’ve got her. You’ve been a true friend to her too, haven’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + Kurrell stared long and gravely. The situation was getting beyond him. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Boulte answered, more to himself than the questioner: ‘My wife came over + to Mrs. Vansuythen’s just now; and it seems you’d been telling Mrs. + Vansuythen that you’d never cared for Emma. I suppose you lied, as usual. + What had Mrs. Vansuythen to do with you, or you with her? Try to speak the + truth for once in a way.’ + </p> + <p> + Kurrell took the double insult without wincing, and replied by another + question: ‘Go on. What happened?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Emma fainted,’ said Boulte simply. ‘But, look here, what had you been + saying to Mrs. Vansuythen?’ + </p> + <p> + Kurrell laughed. Mrs. Boulte had, with unbridled tongue, made havoc of his + plans; and he could at least retaliate by hurting the man in whose eyes he + was humiliated and shown dishonourable. + </p> + <p> + ‘Said to her? What does a man tell a lie like that for? I suppose I said + pretty much what you’ve said, unless I’m a good deal mistaken.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I spoke the truth,’ said Boulte, again more to himself than Kurrell. + ‘Emma told me she hated me. She has no right in me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No! I suppose not. You’re only her husband, y’know. And what did Mrs. + Vansuythen say after you had laid your disengaged heart at her feet?’ + </p> + <p> + Kurrell felt almost virtuous as he put the question. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think that matters,’ Boulte replied; ‘and it doesn’t concern + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it does! I tell you it does’ began Kurrell shamelessly. + </p> + <p> + The sentence was cut by a roar of laughter from Boulte’s lips. Kurrell was + silent for an instant, and then he, too, laughed laughed long and loudly, + rocking in his saddle. It was an unpleasant sound the mirthless mirth of + these men on the long white line of the Narkarra Road. There were no + strangers in Kashima, or they might have thought that captivity within the + Dosehri hills had driven half the European population mad. The laughter + ended abruptly, and Kurrell was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ + </p> + <p> + Boulte looked up the road, and at the hills. ‘Nothing,’ said he quietly; + ‘what’s the use? It’s too ghastly for anything. We must let the old life + go on. I can only call you a hound and a liar, and I can’t go on calling + you names for ever. Besides which, I don’t feel that I’m much better. We + can’t get out of this place. What is there to do?’ + </p> + <p> + Kurrell looked round the rat-pit of Kashima and made no reply. The injured + husband took up the wondrous tale. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ride on, and speak to Emma if you want to. God knows I don’t care what + you do.’ + </p> + <p> + He walked forward, and left Kurrell gazing blankly after him. Kurrell did + not ride on either to see Mrs. Boulte or Mrs. Vansuythen. He sat in his + saddle and thought, while his pony grazed by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + The whir of approaching wheels roused him. Mrs. Vansuythen was driving + home Mrs. Boulte, white and wan, with a cut on her forehead. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop, please,’ said Mrs. Boulte, ‘I want to speak to Ted.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vansuythen obeyed, but as Mrs. Boulte leaned forward, putting her + hand upon the splashboard of the dog-cart, Kurrell spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve seen your husband, Mrs. Boulte.’ + </p> + <p> + There was no necessity for any further explanation. The man’s eyes were + fixed, not upon Mrs. Boulte, but her companion. Mrs. Boulte saw the look. + </p> + <p> + ‘Speak to him!’ she pleaded, turning to the woman at her side. ‘Oh, speak + to him! Tell him what you told me just now. Tell him you hate him. Tell + him you hate him!’ + </p> + <p> + She bent forward and wept bitterly, while the sais, impassive, went + forward to hold the horse. Mrs. Vansuythen turned scarlet and dropped the + reins. She wished to be no party to such unholy explanations. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve nothing to do with it,’ she began coldly; but Mrs. Boulte’s sobs + overcame her, and she addressed herself to the man. ‘I don’t know what I + am to say, Captain Kurrell. I don’t know what I can call you. I think + you’ve you’ve behaved abominably, and she has cut her forehead terribly + against the table.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It doesn’t hurt. It isn’t anything,’ said Mrs. Boulte feebly. ‘That + doesn’t matter. Tell him what you told me. Say you don’t care for him. Oh, + Ted, won’t you believe her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Boulte has made me understand that you were that you were fond of + her once upon a time,’ went on Mrs. Vansuythen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Kurrell brutally. ‘It seems to me that Mrs. Boulte had better + be fond of her own husband first.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop!’ said Mrs. Vansuythen. ‘Hear me first. I don’t care I don’t want to + know anything about you and Mrs. Boulte; but I want you to know that I + hate you, that I think you are a cur, and that I’ll never, never speak to + you again. Oh, I don’t dare to say what I think of you, you man!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to speak to Ted,’ moaned Mrs. Boulte, but the dog-cart rattled on, + and Kurrell was left on the road, shamed, and boiling with wrath against + Mrs. Boulte. + </p> + <p> + He waited till Mrs. Vansuythen was driving back to her own house, and, she + being freed from the embarrassment of Mrs. Boulte’s presence, learned for + the second time her opinion of himself and his actions. + </p> + <p> + In the evenings it was the wont of all Kashima to meet at the platform on + the Narkarra Road, to drink tea and discuss the trivialities of the day. + Major Vansuythen and his wife found themselves alone at the + gathering-place for almost the first time in their remembrance; and the + cheery Major, in the teeth of his wife’s remarkably reasonable suggestion + that the rest of the Station might be sick, insisted upon driving round to + the two bungalows and unearthing the population. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sitting in the twilight!’ said he, with great indignation, to the + Boultes. ‘That’ll never do! Hang it all, we’re one family here! You must + come out, and so must Kurrell. I’ll make him bring his banjo.’ + </p> + <p> + So great is the power of honest simplicity and a good digestion over + guilty consciences that all Kashima did turn out, even down to the banjo; + and the Major embraced the company in one expansive grin. As he grinned, + Mrs. Vansuythen raised her eyes for an instant and looked at all Kashima. + Her meaning was clear. Major Vansuythen would never know anything. He was + to be the outsider in that happy family whose cage was the Dosehri hills. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re singing villainously out of tune, Kurrell,’ said the Major + truthfully. ‘Pass me that banjo.’ + </p> + <p> + And he sang in excruciating-wise till the stars came out and all Kashima + went to dinner. + </p> + <p> + That was the beginning of the New Life of Kashima the life that Mrs. + Boulte made when her tongue was loosened in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vansuythen has never told the Major; and since he insists upon + keeping up a burdensome geniality, she has been compelled to break her vow + of not speaking to Kurrell. This speech, which must of necessity preserve + the semblance of politeness and interest, serves admirably to keep alight + the flame of jealousy and dull hatred in Boulte’s bosom, as it awakens the + same passions in his wife’s heart. Mrs. Boulte hates Mrs. Vansuythen + because she has taken Ted from her, and, in some curious fashion, hates + her because Mrs. Vansuythen and here the wife’s eyes see far more clearly + than the husband’s detests Ted. And Ted that gallant captain and + honourable man knows now that it is possible to hate a woman once loved, + to the verge of wishing to silence her for ever with blows. Above all, is + he shocked that Mrs. Boulte cannot see the error of her ways. + </p> + <p> + Boulte and he go out tiger-shooting together in all friendship. Boulte has + put their relationship on a most satisfactory footing. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a blackguard,’ he says to Kurrell, ‘and I’ve lost any self-respect + I may ever have had; but when you’re with me, I can feel certain that you + are not with Mrs. Vansuythen, or making Emma miserable.’ + </p> + <p> + Kurrell endures anything that Boulte may say to him. Sometimes they are + away for three days together, and then the Major insists upon his wife + going over to sit with Mrs. Boulte; although Mrs. Vansuythen has + repeatedly declared that she prefers her husband’s company to any in the + world. From the way in which she clings to him, she would certainly seem + to be speaking the truth. + </p> + <p> + But of course, as the Major says, ‘in a little Station we must all be + friendly.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HILL OF ILLUSION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What rendered vain their deep desire? + A God, a God their severance ruled, + And bade between their shores to be + The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea. + —Matthew Arnold. +</pre> + <p> + He. Tell your jhampanies not to hurry so, dear. They forget I’m fresh from + the Plains. + </p> + <p> + She. Sure proof that I have not been going out with any one. Yes, they are + an untrained crew. Where do we go? + </p> + <p> + He. As usual to the world’s end. No, Jakko. + </p> + <p> + She. Have your pony led after you, then. It’s a long round. + </p> + <p> + He. And for the last time, thank Heaven! + </p> + <p> + She. Do you mean that still? I didn’t dare to write to you about it all + these months. + </p> + <p> + He. Mean it! I’ve been shaping my affairs to that end since Autumn. What + makes you speak as though it had occurred to you for the first time? + </p> + <p> + She. I? Oh! I don’t know. I’ve had long enough to think, too. + </p> + <p> + He. And you’ve changed your mind? + </p> + <p> + She. No. You ought to know that I am a miracle of constancy. What are your + arrangements? + </p> + <p> + He. Ours, Sweetheart, please. + </p> + <p> + She. Ours, be it then. My poor boy, how the prickly heat has marked your + forehead! Have you ever tried sulphate of copper in water? + </p> + <p> + He. It’ll go away in a day or two up here. The arrangements are simple + enough. Tonga in the early morning reach Kalka at twelve Umballa at seven + down, straight by night train, to Bombay, and then the steamer of the 21st + for Rome. That’s my idea. The Continent and Sweden a ten-week honeymoon. + </p> + <p> + She. Ssh! Don’t talk of it in that way. It makes me afraid. Guy, how long + have we two been insane? + </p> + <p> + He. Seven months and fourteen days, I forget the odd hours exactly, but + I’ll think. + </p> + <p> + She. I only wanted to see if you remembered. Who are those two on the + Blessington Road? + </p> + <p> + He. Eabrey and the Penner Woman. What do they matter to us? Tell me + everything that you’ve been doing and saying and thinking. + </p> + <p> + She. Doing little, saying less, and thinking a great deal. I’ve hardly + been out at all. + </p> + <p> + He. That was wrong of you. You haven’t been moping? + </p> + <p> + She. Not very much. Can you wonder that I’m disinclined for amusement? + </p> + <p> + He. Frankly, I do. Where was the difficulty? + </p> + <p> + She. In this only. The more people I know and the more I’m known here, the + wider spread will be the news of the crash when it comes. I don’t like + that. + </p> + <p> + He. Nonsense. We shall be out of it. + </p> + <p> + She. You think so? + </p> + <p> + He. I’m sure of it, if there is any power in steam or horse-flesh to carry + us away. Ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + She. And the fun of the situation comes in where, my Lancelot? + </p> + <p> + He. Nowhere, Guinevere. I was only thinking of something. + </p> + <p> + She. They say men have a keener sense of humour than women. Now I was + thinking of the scandal. + </p> + <p> + He. Don’t think of anything so ugly. We shall be beyond it. + </p> + <p> + She. It will be there all the same in the mouths of Simla telegraphed over + India, and talked of at the dinners and when He goes out they will stare + at Him to see how he takes it. And we shall be dead, Guy dear dead and + cast into the outer darkness where there is— + </p> + <p> + He. Love at least. Isn’t that enough? + </p> + <p> + She. I have said so. + </p> + <p> + He. And you think so still? + </p> + <p> + She. What do you think? + </p> + <p> + He. What have I done? It means equal ruin to me, as the world reckons it + outcasting, the loss of my appointment, the breaking off my life’s work. I + pay my price. + </p> + <p> + She. And are you so much above the world that you can afford to pay it. Am + I? + </p> + <p> + He. My Divinity what else? + </p> + <p> + She. A very ordinary woman, I’m afraid, but so far, respectable. How d’you + do, Mrs. Middle-ditch? Your husband? I think he’s riding down to Annandale + with Colonel Statters. Yes, isn’t it divine after the rain? Guy, how long + am I to be allowed to bow to Mrs. Middleditch? Till the 17th? + </p> + <p> + He. Frowsy Scotchwoman! What is the use of bringing her into the + discussion? You were saying? + </p> + <p> + She. Nothing. Have you ever seen a man hanged? + </p> + <p> + He. Yes. Once. + </p> + <p> + She. What was it for? + </p> + <p> + He. Murder, of course. + </p> + <p> + She. Murder. Is that so great a sin after all? I wonder how he felt before + the drop fell. + </p> + <p> + He. I don’t think he felt much. What a gruesome little woman it is this + evening! You’re shivering. Put on your cape, dear. + </p> + <p> + She. I think I will. Oh! Look at the mist coming over Sanjaoli; and I + thought we should have sunshine on the Ladies’ Mile! Let’s turn back. + </p> + <p> + He. What’s the good? There’s a cloud on Elysium Hill, and that means it’s + foggy all down the Mall. We’ll go on. It’ll blow away before we get to the + Convent, perhaps. ‘Jove! It is chilly. + </p> + <p> + She. You feel it, fresh from below. Put on your ulster. What do you think + of my cape? + </p> + <p> + He. Never ask a man his opinion of a woman’s dress when he is desperately + and abjectly in love with the wearer. Let me look. Like everything else of + yours it’s perfect. Where did you get it from? + </p> + <p> + She. He gave it me, on Wednesday our wedding-day, you know. + </p> + <p> + He. The Deuce He did! He’s growing generous in his old age. D’you like all + that frilly, bunchy stuff at the throat? I don’t. + </p> + <p> + She. Don’t you? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Kind Sir, o’ your courtesy, + As you go by the town, Sir, + ‘Pray you o’ your love for me, + Buy me a russet gown, Sir. +</pre> + <p> + He. I won’t say: ‘Keek into the draw-well, Janet, Janet.’ Only wait a + little, darling, and you shall be stocked with russet gowns and everything + else. + </p> + <p> + She. And when the frocks wear out you’ll get me new ones and everything + else? + </p> + <p> + He. Assuredly. + </p> + <p> + She. I wonder! + </p> + <p> + He. Look here, Sweetheart, I didn’t spend two days and two nights in the + train to hear you wonder. I thought we’d settled all that at Shaifazehat. + </p> + <p> + She. (dreamily). At Shaifazehat? Does the Station go on still? That was + ages and ages ago. It must be crumbling to pieces. All except the + Amirtollah kutcha road. I don’t believe that could crumble till the Day of + Judgment. + </p> + <p> + He. You think so? What is the mood now? + </p> + <p> + She. I can’t tell. How cold it is! Let us get on quickly. + </p> + <p> + He. ‘Better walk a little. Stop your jhampanies and get out. What’s the + matter with you this evening, dear? + </p> + <p> + She. Nothing. You must grow accustomed to my ways. If I’m boring you I can + go home. Here’s Captain Congleton coming, I daresay he’ll be willing to + escort me. + </p> + <p> + He. Goose! Between us, too! Damn Captain Congleton. + </p> + <p> + She. Chivalrous Knight. Is it your habit to swear much in talking? It jars + a little, and you might swear at me. + </p> + <p> + He. My angel! I didn’t know what I was saying; and you changed so quickly + that I couldn’t follow. I’ll apologise in dust and ashes. + </p> + <p> + She. There’ll be enough of those later on Good-night, Captain Congleton. + Going to the singing-quadrilles already? What dances am I giving you next + week? No! You must have written them down wrong. Five and Seven, I said. + If you’ve made a mistake, I certainly don’t intend to suffer for it. You + must alter your programme. + </p> + <p> + He. I thought you told me that you had not been going out much this + season? + </p> + <p> + She. Quite true, but when I do I dance with Captain Congleton. He dances + very nicely. + </p> + <p> + He. And sit out with him, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + She. Yes. Have you any objection? Shall I stand under the chandelier in + future? + </p> + <p> + He. What does he talk to you about? + </p> + <p> + She. What do men talk about when they sit out? + </p> + <p> + He. Ugh! Don’t! Well, now I’m up, you must dispense with the fascinating + Congleton for a while. I don’t like him. + </p> + <p> + She (after a pause). Do you know what you have said? + </p> + <p> + He ‘Can’t say that I do exactly. I’m not in the best of tempers. + </p> + <p> + She So I see, and feel. My true and faithful lover, where is your ‘eternal + constancy,’ ‘unalterable trust,’ and ‘reverent devotion’? I remember those + phrases; you seem to have forgotten them. I mention a man’s name. + </p> + <p> + He. A good deal more than that. + </p> + <p> + She. Well, speak to him about a dance perhaps the last dance that I shall + ever dance in my life before I, before I go away; and you at once distrust + and insult me. + </p> + <p> + He. I never said a word. + </p> + <p> + She. How much did you imply? Guy, is this amount of confidence to be our + stock to start the new life on? + </p> + <p> + He. No, of course not. I didn’t mean that. On my word and honour, I + didn’t. Let it pass, dear. Please let it pass. + </p> + <p> + She. This once yes and a second time, and again and again, all through the + years when I shall be unable to resent it. You want too much, my Lancelot, + and, you know too much. + </p> + <p> + He. How do you mean? + </p> + <p> + She. That is a part of the punishment. There cannot be perfect trust + between us. + </p> + <p> + He. In Heaven’s name, why not? + </p> + <p> + She. Hush! The Other Place is quite enough. Ask yourself. + </p> + <p> + He. I don’t follow. + </p> + <p> + She. You trust me so implicitly that when I look at another man Never + mind. Guy, have you ever made love to a girl a good girl? + </p> + <p> + He. Something of the sort. Centuries ago in the Dark Ages, before I ever + met you, dear. + </p> + <p> + She. Tell me what you said to her. + </p> + <p> + He. What does a man say to a girl? I’ve forgotten. + </p> + <p> + She. I remember. He tells her that he trusts her and worships the ground + she walks on, and that he’ll love and honour and protect her till her + dying day; and so she marries in that belief. At least, I speak of one + girl who was not protected. + </p> + <p> + He. Well, and then? + </p> + <p> + She. And then, Guy, and then, that girl needs ten times the love and trust + and honour yes, honour that was enough when she was only a mere wife if if + the other life she chooses to lead is to be made even bearable. Do you + understand? + </p> + <p> + He. Even bearable! It’ll be Paradise. + </p> + <p> + She. Ah! Can you give me all I’ve asked for not now, nor a few months + later, but when you begin to think of what you might have done if you had + kept your own appointment and your caste here when you begin to look upon + me as a drag and a burden? I shall want it most then, Guy, for there will + be no one in the wide world but you. + </p> + <p> + He. You’re a little over-tired to-night, Sweetheart, and you’re taking a + stage view of the situation. After the necessary business in the Courts, + the road is clear to— + </p> + <p> + She. ‘The holy state of matrimony!’ Ha! ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + He. Ssh! Don’t laugh in that horrible way! + </p> + <p> + She. I I c-c-c-can’t help it! Isn’t it too absurd! Ah! Ha! ha! ha! Guy, + stop me quick or I shall l-l-laugh till we get to the Church. + </p> + <p> + He. For goodness sake, stop! Don’t make an exhibition of yourself. What is + the matter with you? + </p> + <p> + She. N-nothing. I’m better now. + </p> + <p> + He. That’s all right. One moment, dear. There’s a little wisp of hair got + loose from behind your right ear and it’s straggling over your cheek. So! + </p> + <p> + She. Thank’oo. I’m ‘fraid my hat’s on one side, too. + </p> + <p> + He. What do you wear these huge dagger bonnet-skewers for? They’re big + enough to kill a man with. + </p> + <p> + She. Oh! don’t kill me, though. You’re sticking it into my head! Let me do + it. You men are so clumsy. + </p> + <p> + He. Have you had many opportunities of comparing us in this sort of work? + </p> + <p> + She. Guy, what is my name? + </p> + <p> + He. Eh! I don’t follow. + </p> + <p> + She. Here’s my card-case. Can you read? + </p> + <p> + He. Yes. Well? + </p> + <p> + She. Well, that answers your question. You know the other’s man’s name. Am + I sufficiently humbled, or would you like to ask me if there is any one + else? + </p> + <p> + He. I see now. My darling, I never meant that for an instant. I was only + joking. There! Lucky there’s no one on the road. They’d be scandalised. + </p> + <p> + She. They’ll be more scandalised before the end. + </p> + <p> + He. Do-on’t! I don’t like you to talk in that way. + </p> + <p> + She. Unreasonable man! Who asked me to face the situation and accept it? + Tell me, do I look like Mrs. Penner? Do I look like a naughty woman! Swear + I don’t! Give me your word of honour, my honourable friend, that I’m not + like Mrs. Buzgago. That’s the way she stands, with her hands clasped at + the back of her head. D’you like that? + </p> + <p> + He. Don’t be affected. + </p> + <p> + She. I’m not. I’m Mrs. Buzgago. Listen! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pendant une anne’ toute entiere + Le regiment n’a pas r’paru. + Au Ministere de la Guerre + On le r’porta comme perdu. + On se r’noncait—retrouver sa trace, + Quand un matin subitement, + On le vit reparaetre sur la place, + L’Colonel toujours en avant. +</pre> + <p> + That’s the way she rolls her r’s. Am I like her? + </p> + <p> + He. No, but I object when you go on like an actress and sing stuff of that + kind. Where in the world did you pick up the Chanson du Colonel? It isn’t + a drawing-room song. It isn’t proper. + </p> + <p> + She. Mrs. Buzgago taught it me. She is both drawing-room and proper, and + in another month she’ll shut her drawing-room to me, and thank God she + isn’t as improper as I am. Oh, Guy, Guy! I wish I was like some women and + had no scruples about What is it Keene says? ‘Wearing a corpse’s hair and + being false to the bread they eat.’ + </p> + <p> + He. I am only a man of limited intelligence, and, just now, very + bewildered. When you have quite finished flashing through all your moods + tell me, and I’ll try to understand the last one. + </p> + <p> + She. Moods, Guy! I haven’t any. I’m sixteen years old and you’re just + twenty, and you’ve been waiting for two hours outside the school in the + cold. And now I’ve met you, and now we’re walking home together. Does that + suit you, My Imperial Majesty? + </p> + <p> + He. No. We aren’t children. Why can’t you be rational? + </p> + <p> + She. He asks me that when I’m going to commit suicide for his sake, and, + and I don’t want to be French and rave about my mother, but have I ever + told you that I have a mother, and a brother who was my pet before I + married? He’s married now. Can’t you imagine the pleasure that the news of + the elopement will give him? Have you any people at Home, Guy, to be + pleased with your performances? + </p> + <p> + He. One or two. One can’t make omelets without breaking eggs. + </p> + <p> + She (slowly). I don’t see the necessity + </p> + <p> + He. Hah! What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + She. Shall I speak the truth? + </p> + <p> + He Under the circumstances, perhaps it would be as well. + </p> + <p> + She. Guy, I’m afraid. + </p> + <p> + He I thought we’d settled all that. What of? + </p> + <p> + She. Of you. + </p> + <p> + He. Oh, damn it all! The old business! This is too bad! + </p> + <p> + She. Of you. + </p> + <p> + He. And what now? + </p> + <p> + She. What do you think of me? + </p> + <p> + He. Beside the question altogether. What do you intend to do? + </p> + <p> + She. I daren’t risk it. I’m afraid. If I could only cheat + </p> + <p> + He. A la Buzgago? No, thanks. That’s the one point on which I have any + notion of Honour. I won’t eat his salt and steal too. I’ll loot openly or + not at all. + </p> + <p> + She. I never meant anything else. + </p> + <p> + He. Then, why in the world do you pretend not to be willing to come? + </p> + <p> + She. It’s not pretence, Guy. I am afraid. + </p> + <p> + He. Please explain. + </p> + <p> + She. It can’t last, Guy. It can’t last. You’ll get angry, and then you’ll + swear, and then you’ll get jealous, and then you’ll mistrust me you do now + and you yourself will be the best reason for doubting. And I what shall I + do? I shall be no better than Mrs. Buzgago found out no better than any + one. And you’ll know that. Oh, Guy, can’t you see? + </p> + <p> + He I see that you are desperately unreasonable, little woman. + </p> + <p> + She. There! The moment I begin to object, you get angry. What will you do + when I am only your property stolen property? It can’t be, Guy. It can’t + be! I thought it could, but it can’t. You’ll get tired of me. + </p> + <p> + He I tell you I shall not. Won’t anything make you understand that? + </p> + <p> + She. There, can’t you see? If you speak to me like that now, you’ll call + me horrible names later, if I don’t do everything as you like. And if you + were cruel to me, Guy, where should I go? where should I go? I can’t trust + you. Oh! I can’t trust you! + </p> + <p> + He. I suppose I ought to say that I can trust you. I’ve ample reason. + </p> + <p> + She. Please don’t, dear. It hurts as much as if you hit me. + </p> + <p> + He. It isn’t exactly pleasant for me. + </p> + <p> + She. I can’t help it. I wish I were dead! I can’t trust you, and I don’t + trust myself. Oh, Guy, let it die away and be forgotten! + </p> + <p> + He. Too late now. I don’t understand you I won’t and I can’t trust myself + to talk this evening. May I call to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + She. Yes. No! Oh, give me time! The day after. I get into my ‘rickshaw + here and meet Him at Peliti’s. You ride. + </p> + <p> + He. I’ll go on to Peliti’s too. I think I want a drink. My world’s knocked + about my ears and the stars are falling. Who are those brutes howling in + the Old Library? + </p> + <p> + She. They’re rehearsing the singing-quadrilles for the Fancy Ball. Can’t + you hear Mrs. Buzgago’s voice? She has a solo. It’s quite a new idea. + Listen! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Buzgago (in the Old Library, con molt. exp.). + </p> + <p> + See-saw! Margery Daw! + </p> + <p> + Sold her bed to lie upon straw. + </p> + <p> + Wasn’t she a silly slut + </p> + <p> + To sell her bed and lie upon dirt? + </p> + <p> + Captain Congleton, I’m going to alter that to ‘flirt.’ It sounds better. + </p> + <p> + He. No, I’ve changed my mind about the drink. Good-night, little lady. I + shall see you to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + She. Ye es. Good-night, Guy. Don’t be angry with me. + </p> + <p> + He. Angry! You know I trust you absolutely. Good-night and God bless you! + </p> + <p> + (Three seconds later. Alone.) Hmm! I’d give something to discover whether + there’s another man at the back of all this. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A SECOND-RATE WOMAN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Est fuga, volvitur rota, + On we drift: where looms the dim port? + One Two Three Four Five contribute their quota: + Something is gained if one caught but the import, + Show it us, Hugues of Saxe-Gotha. + —Master Hugues of Saxe-Gotha. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Dressed! Don’t tell me that woman ever dressed in her life. She stood in + the middle of the room while her ayah no, her husband it must have been a + man threw her clothes at her. She then did her hair with her fingers, and + rubbed her bonnet in the flue under the bed. I know she did, as well as if + I had assisted at the orgy. Who is she?’ said Mrs. Hauksbee. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t!’ said Mrs. Mallowe feebly. ‘You make my head ache. I am miserable + to-day. Stay me with fondants, comfort me with chocolates, for I am. Did + you bring anything from Peliti’s?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Questions to begin with. You shall have the sweets when you have answered + them. Who and what is the creature? There were at least half-a-dozen men + round her, and she appeared to be going to sleep in their midst.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Delville,’ said Mrs. Mallowe, “‘Shady” Delville, to distinguish her from + Mrs. Jim of that ilk. She dances as untidily as she dresses, I believe, + and her husband is somewhere in Madras. Go and call, if you are so + interested.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What have I to do with Shigramitish women? She merely caught my attention + for a minute, and I wondered at the attraction that a dowd has for a + certain type of man. I expected to see her walk out of her clothes until I + looked at her eyes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hooks and eyes, surely,’ drawled Mrs. Mallowe. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be clever, Polly. You make my head ache. And round this hayrick + stood a crowd of men a positive crowd!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps they also expected.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Polly, don’t be Rabelaisian!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe curled herself up comfortably on the sofa, and turned her + attention to the sweets. She and Mrs. Hauksbee shared the same house at + Simla; and these things befell two seasons after the matter of Otis Yeere, + which has been already recorded. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee stepped into the verandah and looked down upon the Mall, her + forehead puckered with thought. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee shortly. ‘Indeed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ said Mrs. Mallowe sleepily. + </p> + <p> + ‘That dowd and The Dancing Master to whom I object.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why to The Dancing Master? He is a middle-aged gentleman, of reprobate + and romantic tendencies, and tries to be a friend of mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then make up your mind to lose him. Dowds cling by nature, and I should + imagine that this animal how terrible her bonnet looks from above! is + specially clingsome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is welcome to The Dancing Master so far as I am concerned. I never + could take an interest in a monotonous liar. The frustrated aim of his + life is to persuade people that he is a bachelor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O-oh! I think I’ve met that sort of man before. And isn’t he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. He confided that to me a few days ago. Ugh! Some men ought to be + killed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What happened then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He posed as the horror of horrors a misunderstood man. Heaven knows the + femme incomprise is sad enough and bad enough but the other thing!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And so fat too! I should have laughed in his face. Men seldom confide in + me. How is it they come to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For the sake of impressing me with their careers in the past. Protect me + from men with confidences!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And yet you encourage them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What can I do? They talk, I listen, and they vow that I am sympathetic. I + know I always profess astonishment even when the plot is of the most old + possible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. Men are so unblushingly explicit if they are once allowed to talk, + whereas women’s confidences are full of reservations and fibs, except—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When they go mad and babble of the Unutter-abilities after a week’s + acquaintance. Really, if you come to consider, we know a great deal more + of men than of our own sex.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the extraordinary thing is that men will never believe it. They say + we are trying to hide something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are generally doing that on their own account. Alas! These + chocolates pall upon me, and I haven’t eaten more than a dozen. I think I + shall go to sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’ll get fat, dear. If you took more exercise and a more + intelligent interest in your neighbours you would—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Be as much loved as Mrs. Hauksbee. You’re a darling in many ways, and I + like you you are not a woman’s woman but why do you trouble yourself about + mere human beings?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because in the absence of angels, who I am sure would be horribly dull, + men and women are the most fascinating things in the whole wide world, + lazy one. I am interested in The Dowd I am interested in The Dancing + Master I am interested in the Hawley Boy and I am interested in you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why couple me with the Hawley Boy? He is your property.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, and in his own guileless speech, I’m making a good thing out of him. + When he is slightly more reformed, and has passed his Higher Standard, or + whatever the authorities think fit to exact from him, I shall select a + pretty little girl, the Holt girl, I think, and’ here she waved her hands + airily “‘whom Mrs. Hauksbee hath joined together let no man put asunder.” + That’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And when you have yoked May Holt with the most notorious detrimental in + Simla, and earned the undying hatred of Mamma Holt, what will you do with + me, Dispenser of the Destinies of the Universe?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee dropped into a low chair in front of the fire, and, chin in + hand, gazed long and steadfastly at Mrs. Mallowe. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘what I shall do with you, + dear. It’s obviously impossible to marry you to some one else your husband + would object and the experiment might not be successful after all. I think + I shall begin by preventing you from what is it? “sleeping on ale-house + benches and snoring in the sun.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t! I don’t like your quotations. They are so rude. Go to the Library + and bring me new books.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘While you sleep? No! If you don’t come with me I shall spread your newest + frock on my ‘rickshaw-bow, and when any one asks me what I am doing, I + shall say that I am going to Phelps’s to get it let out. I shall take care + that Mrs. MacNamara sees me. Put your things on, there’s a good girl.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe groaned and obeyed, and the two went off to the Library, + where they found Mrs. Delville and the man who went by the nick-name of + The Dancing Master. By that time Mrs. Mallowe was awake and eloquent. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is the Creature!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee, with the air of one pointing + out a slug in the road. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘The man is the Creature. Ugh! Good-evening, Mr. + Bent. I thought you were coming to tea this evening.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely it was for to-morrow, was it not?’ answered The Dancing Master. ‘I + understood I fancied I’m so sorry How very unfortunate!’ + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Mallowe had passed on. + </p> + <p> + ‘For the practised equivocator you said he was,’ murmured Mrs. Hauksbee, + ‘he strikes me as a failure. Now wherefore should he have preferred a walk + with The Dowd to tea with us? Elective affinities, I suppose both grubby. + Polly, I’d never forgive that woman as long as the world rolls.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I forgive every woman everything,’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘He will be a + sufficient punishment for her. What a common voice she has!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Delville’s voice was not pretty, her carriage was even less lovely, + and her raiment was strikingly neglected. All these things Mrs. Mallowe + noticed over the top of a magazine. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now what is there in her?’ said Mrs. Hauksbee. ‘Do you see what I meant + about the clothes falling off? If I were a man I would perish sooner than + be seen with that rag-bag. And yet, she has good eyes, but Oh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She doesn’t know how to use them! On my honour, she does not. Look! Oh + look! Untidiness I can endure, but ignorance never! The woman’s a fool.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hsh! She’ll hear you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All the women in Simla are fools. She’ll think I mean some one else. Now + she’s going out. What a thoroughly objectionable couple she and The + Dancing Master make! Which reminds me. Do you suppose they’ll ever dance + together?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait and see. I don’t envy her the conversation of The Dancing Master + loathly man! His wife ought to be up here before long?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know anything about him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only what he told me. It may be all a fiction. He married a girl bred in + the country, I think, and, being an honourable, chivalrous soul, told me + that he repented his bargain and sent her to her as often as possible a + person who has lived in the Doon since the memory of man and goes to + Mussoorie when other people go Home. The wife is with her at present. So + he says.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Babies?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One only, but he talks of his wife in a revolting way. I hated him for + it. He thought he was being epigrammatic and brilliant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is a vice peculiar to men. I dislike him because he is generally in + the wake of some girl, disappointing the Eligibles. He will persecute May + Holt no more, unless I am much mistaken.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I think Mrs. Delville may occupy his attention for a while.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you suppose she knows that he is the head of a family?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not from his lips. He swore me to eternal secrecy. Wherefore I tell you. + Don’t you know that type of man?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not intimately, thank goodness! As a general rule, when a man begins to + abuse his wife to me, I find that the Lord gives me wherewith to answer + him according to his folly; and we part with a coolness between us. I + laugh.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m different. I’ve no sense of humour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cultivate it, then. It has been my mainstay for more years than I care to + think about. A well-educated sense of humour will save a woman when + Religion, Training, and Home influences fail; and we may all need + salvation sometimes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you suppose that the Delville woman has humour?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Her dress betrays her. How can a Thing who wears her supplement under her + left arm have any notion of the fitness of things much less their folly? + If she discards The Dancing Master after having once seen him dance, I may + respect her. Otherwise—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But are we not both assuming a great deal too much, dear? You saw the + woman at Peliti’s half an hour later you saw her walking with The Dancing + Master an hour later you met her here at the Library.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Still with The Dancing Master, remember.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Still with The Dancing Master, I admit, but why on the strength of that + should you imagine—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I imagine nothing. I have no imagination. I am only convinced that The + Dancing Master is attracted to The Dowd because he is objectionable in + every way and she in every other. If I know the man as you have described + him, he holds his wife in slavery at present.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is twenty years younger than he.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor wretch! And, in the end, after he has posed and swaggered and lied + he has a mouth under that ragged moustache simply made for lies he will be + rewarded according to his merits.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder what those really are,’ said Mrs. Mallowe. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Hauksbee, her face close to the shelf of the new books, was + humming softly: ‘What shall he have who killed the Deer?’ She was a lady + of unfettered speech. + </p> + <p> + One month later she announced her intention of calling upon Mrs. Delville. + Both Mrs. Hauksbee and Mrs. Mallowe were in morning wrappers, and there + was a great peace in the land. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should go as I was,’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘It would be a delicate + compliment to her style.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee studied herself in the glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Assuming for a moment that she ever darkened these doors, I should put on + this robe, after all the others, to show her what a morning-wrapper ought + to be. It might enliven her. As it is, I shall go in the dove-coloured + sweet emblem of youth and innocence and shall put on my new gloves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you really are going, dirty tan would be too good; and you know that + dove-colour spots with the rain.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I care not. I may make her envious. At least I shall try, though one + cannot expect very much from a woman who puts a lace tucker into her + habit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just Heavens! When did she do that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yesterday riding with The Dancing Master. I met them at the back of + Jakko, and the rain had made the lace lie down. To complete the effect, + she was wearing an unclean terai with the elastic under her chin. I felt + almost too well content to take the trouble to despise her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Hawley Boy was riding with you. What did he think?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does a boy ever notice these things? Should I like him if he did? He + stared in the rudest way, and just when I thought he had seen the elastic, + he said, “There’s something very taking about that face.” I rebuked him on + the spot. I don’t approve of boys being taken by faces.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Other than your own. I shouldn’t be in the least surprised if the Hawley + Boy immediately went to call.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I forbade him. Let her be satisfied with The Dancing Master, and his wife + when she comes up. I’m rather curious to see Mrs. Bent and the Delville + woman together.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee departed and, at the end of an hour, returned slightly + flushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no limit to the treachery of youth! I ordered the Hawley Boy, as + he valued my patronage, not to call. The first person I stumble over + literally stumble over in her poky, dark little drawing-room is, of + course, the Hawley Boy. She kept us waiting ten minutes, and then emerged + as though she had been tipped out of the dirtyclothes-basket. You know my + way, dear, when I am at all put out. I was Superior, crrrrushingly + Superior! ‘Lifted my eyes to Heaven, and had heard of nothing ‘dropped my + eyes on the carpet and “really didn’t know” ‘played with my cardcase and + “supposed so.” The Hawley Boy giggled like a girl, and I had to freeze him + with scowls between the sentences.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And she?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She sat in a heap on the edge of a couch, and managed to convey the + impression that she was suffering from stomach-ache, at the very least. It + was all I could do not to ask after her symptoms. When I rose, she grunted + just like a buffalo in the water too lazy to move.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you certain?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I blind, Polly? Laziness, sheer laziness, nothing else or her garments + were only constructed for sitting down in. I stayed for a quarter of an + hour trying to penetrate the gloom, to guess what her surroundings were + like, while she stuck out her tongue.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lu cy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well I’ll withdraw the tongue, though I’m sure if she didn’t do it when I + was in the room, she did the minute I was outside. At any rate, she lay in + a lump and grunted. Ask the Hawley Boy, dear. I believe the grunts were + meant for sentences, but she spoke so indistinctly that I can’t swear to + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are incorrigible, simply.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not! Treat me civilly, give me peace with honour, don’t put the only + available seat facing the window, and a child may eat jam in my lap before + Church. But I resent being grunted at. Wouldn’t you? Do you suppose that + she communicates her views on life and love to The Dancing Master in a set + of modulated “Grmphs”?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You attach too much importance to The Dancing Master.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He came as we went, and The Dowd grew almost cordial at the sight of him. + He smiled greasily, and moved about that darkened dog-kennel in a + suspiciously familiar way.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be uncharitable. Any sin but that I’ll forgive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen to the voice of History. I am only describing what I saw. He + entered, the heap on the sofa revived slightly, and the Hawley Boy and I + came away together. He is disillusioned, but I felt it my duty to lecture + him severely for going there. And that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now for Pity’s sake leave the wretched creature and The Dancing Master + alone. They never did you any harm.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No harm? To dress as an example and a stumbling-block for half Simla, and + then to find this Person who is dressed by the hand of God not that I wish + to disparage Him for a moment, but you know the tikka dhurzie way He + attires those lilies of the field this Person draws the eyes of men and + some of them nice men? It’s almost enough to make one discard clothing. I + told the Hawley Boy so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what did that sweet youth do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Turned shell-pink and looked across the far blue hills like a distressed + cherub. Am I talking wildly, Polly? Let me say my say, and I shall be + calm. Otherwise I may go abroad and disturb Simla with a few original + reflections. Excepting always your own sweet self, there isn’t a single + woman in the land who understands me when I am what’s the word?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tete-fele suggested Mrs. Mallowe. + </p> + <p> + ‘Exactly! And now let us have tiffin. The demands of Society are + exhausting, and as Mrs. Delville says,—’ Here Mrs. Hauksbee, to the + horror of the khitmatgars, lapsed into a series of grunts, while Mrs. + Mallowe stared in lazy surprise. + </p> + <p> + ‘“God gie us a guid conceit of oorselves,”’ said Mrs. Hauksbee piously, + returning to her natural speech. ‘Now, in any other woman that would have + been vulgar. I am consumed with curiosity to see Mrs. Bent. I expect + complications.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Woman of one idea,’ said Mrs. Mallowe shortly; ‘all complications are as + old as the hills! I have lived through or near all all All!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And yet do not understand that men and women never behave twice alike. I + am old who was young if ever I put my head in your lap, you dear, big + sceptic, you will learn that my parting is gauze but never, no never, have + I lost my interest in men and women. Polly, I shall see this business out + to the bitter end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to sleep,’ said Mrs. Mallowe calmly. ‘I never interfere with + men or women unless I am compelled,’ and she retired with dignity to her + own room. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee’s curiosity was not long left ungratified, for Mrs. Bent + came up to Simla a few days after the conversation faithfully reported + above, and pervaded the Mall by her husband’s side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Behold!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee, thoughtfully rubbing her nose. ‘That is the + last link of the chain, if we omit the husband of the Delville, whoever he + may be. Let me consider. The Bents and the Delvilles inhabit the same + hotel; and the Delville is detested by the Waddy do you know the Waddy? + who is almost as big a dowd. The Waddy also abominates the male Bent, for + which, if her other sins do not weigh too heavily, she will eventually go + to Heaven.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be irreverent,’ said Mrs. Mallowe, ‘I like Mrs. Bent’s face.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am discussing the Waddy,’ returned Mrs. Hauksbee loftily. ‘The Waddy + will take the female Bent apart, after having borrowed yes! everything + that she can, from hairpins to babies’ bottles. Such, my dear, is life in + a hotel. The Waddy will tell the female Bent facts and fictions about The + Dancing Master and The Dowd.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucy, I should like you better if you were not always looking into + people’s back-bedrooms.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anybody can look into their front drawingrooms; and remember whatever I + do, and whatever I look, I never talk as the Waddy will. Let us hope that + The Dancing Master’s greasy smile and manner of the pedagogue will soften + the heart of that cow, his wife. If mouths speak truth, I should think + that little Mrs. Bent could get very angry on occasion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what reason has she for being angry?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What reason! The Dancing Master in himself is a reason. How does it go? + “If in his life some trivial errors fall, Look in his face and you’ll + believe them all.” I am prepared to credit any evil of The Dancing Master, + because I hate him so. And The Dowd is so disgustingly badly dressed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That she, too, is capable of every iniquity? I always prefer to believe + the best of everybody. It saves so much trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very good. I prefer to believe the worst. It saves useless expenditure of + sympathy. And you may be quite certain that the Waddy believes with me.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallowe sighed and made no answer. + </p> + <p> + The conversation was holden after dinner while Mrs. Hauksbee was dressing + for a dance. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am too tired to go,’ pleaded Mrs. Mallowe, and Mrs. Hauksbee left her + in peace till two in the morning, when she was aware of emphatic knocking + at her door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be very angry, dear,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee. ‘My idiot of an ayah has + gone home, and, as I hope to sleep to-night, there isn’t a soul in the + place to unlace me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, this is too bad!’ said Mrs. Mallowe sulkily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cant help it. I’m a lone, lorn grass-widow, dear, but I will not sleep in + my stays. And such news too! Oh, do unlace me, there’s a darling! The Dowd + The Dancing Master I and the Hawley Boy You know the North verandah?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can I do anything if you spin round like this?’ protested Mrs. + Mallowe, fumbling with the knot of the laces. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I forget. I must tell my tale without the aid of your eyes. Do you + know you’ve lovely eyes, dear? Well, to begin with, I took the Hawley Boy + to a kala juggah.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did he want much taking?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lots! There was an arrangement of loose-boxes in kanats, and she was in + the next one talking to him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which? How? Explain.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know what I mean The Dowd and The Dancing Master. We could hear every + word, and we listened shamelessly ‘specially the Hawley Boy. Polly, I + quite love that woman!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is interesting. There! Now turn round. What happened?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One moment. Ah h! Blessed relief. I’ve been looking forward to taking + them off for the last half-hour which is ominous at my time of life. But, + as I was saying, we listened and heard The Dowd drawl worse than ever. She + drops her final g’s like a barmaid or a blue-blooded Aide-de-Camp. “Look + he-ere, you’re gettin’ too fond o’ me,” she said, and The Dancing Master + owned it was so in language that nearly made me ill. The Dowd reflected + for a while. Then we heard her say, “Look he-ere, Mister Bent, why are you + such an aw-ful liar?” I nearly exploded while The Dancing Master denied + the charge. It seems that he never told her he was a married man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I said he wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And she had taken this to heart, on personal grounds, I suppose. She + drawled along for five minutes, reproaching him with his perfidy, and grew + quite motherly. “Now you’ve got a nice little wife of your own you have,” + she said. “She’s ten times too good for a fat old man like you, and, look + he-ere, you never told me a word about her, and I’ve been thinkin’ about + it a good deal, and I think you’re a liar.” Wasn’t that delicious? The + Dancing Master maundered and raved till the Hawley Boy suggested that he + should burst in and beat him. His voice runs up into an impassioned squeak + when he is afraid. The Dowd must be an extraordinary woman. She explained + that had he been a bachelor she might not have objected to his devotion; + but since he was a married man and the father of a very nice baby, she + considered him a hypocrite, and this she repeated twice. She wound up her + drawl with: “An’ I’m tellin’ you this because your wife is angry with me, + an’ I hate quarrellin’ with any other woman, an’ I like your wife. You + know how you have behaved for the last six weeks. You shouldn’t have done + it, indeed you shouldn’t. You’re too old an’ too fat.” Can’t you imagine + how The Dancing Master would wince at that! “Now go away,” she said. “I + don’t want to tell you what I think of you, because I think you are not + nice. I’ll stay he-ere till the next dance begins.” Did you think that the + creature had so much in her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never studied her as closely as you did. It sounds unnatural. What + happened?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Dancing Master attempted blandishment, reproof, jocularity, and the + style of the Lord High Warden, and I had almost to pinch the Hawley Boy to + make him keep quiet. She grunted at the end of each sentence and, in the + end, he went away swearing to himself, quite like a man in a novel. He + looked more objectionable than ever. I laughed. I love that woman in spite + of her clothes. And now I’m going to bed. What do you think of it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shan’t begin to think till the morning,’ said Mrs. Mallowe, yawning. + ‘Perhaps she spoke the truth. They do fly into it by accident sometimes.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee’s account of her eavesdropping was an ornate one, but + truthful in the main. For reasons best known to herself, Mrs. ‘Shady’ + Delville had turned upon Mr. Bent and rent him limb from limb, casting him + away limp and disconcerted ere she withdrew the light of her eyes from him + permanently. Being a man of resource, and anything but pleased in that he + had been called both old and fat, he gave Mrs. Bent to understand that he + had, during her absence in the Doon, been the victim of unceasing + persecution at the hands of Mrs. Delville, and he told the tale so often + and with such eloquence that he ended in believing it, while his wife + marvelled at the manners and customs of ‘some women.’ When the situation + showed signs of languishing, Mrs. Waddy was always on hand to wake the + smouldering fires of suspicion in Mrs. Bent’s bosom and to contribute + generally to the peace and comfort of the hotel. Mr. Bent’s life was not a + happy one, for if Mrs. Waddy’s story were true, he was, argued his wife, + untrustworthy to the last degree. If his own statement was true, his + charms of manner and conversation were so great that he needed constant + surveillance. And he received it, till he repented genuinely of his + marriage and neglected his personal appearance. Mrs. Delville alone in the + hotel was unchanged. She removed her chair some six paces towards the head + of the table, and occasionally in the twilight ventured on timid overtures + of friendship to Mrs. Bent, which were repulsed. + </p> + <p> + ‘She does it for my sake,’ hinted the virtuous Bent. + </p> + <p> + ‘A dangerous and designing woman,’ purred Mrs. Waddy. + </p> + <p> + Worst of all, every other hotel in Simla was full! + </p> + <p> + ‘Polly, are you afraid of diphtheria?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of nothing in the world except small-pox, Diphtheria kills, but it + doesn’t disfigure. Why do you ask?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because the Bent baby has got it, and the whole hotel is upside down in + consequence. The Waddy has “set her five young on the rail” and fled. The + Dancing Master fears for his precious throat, and that miserable little + woman, his wife, has no notion of what ought to be done. She wanted to put + it into a mustard bath for croup!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where did you learn all this?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just now, on the Mall. Dr. Howlen told me. The manager of the hotel is + abusing the Bents, and the Bents are abusing the manager. They are a + feckless couple.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well. What’s on your mind?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This; and I know it’s a grave thing to ask. + </p> + <p> + Would you seriously object to my bringing the child over here, with its + mother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the most strict understanding that we see nothing of the Dancing + Master.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He will be only too glad to stay away. Polly, you’re an angel. The woman + really is at her wits’ end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you know nothing about her, careless, and would hold her up to public + scorn if it gave you a minute’s amusement. Therefore you risk your life + for the sake of her brat. No, Loo, I’m not the angel. I shall keep to my + rooms and avoid her. But do as you please only tell me why you do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee’s eyes softened; she looked out of the window and back into + Mrs. Mallowe’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee simply. + </p> + <p> + ‘You dear!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Polly! and for aught you knew you might have taken my fringe off. Never + do that again without warning. Now we’ll get the rooms ready. I don’t + suppose I shall be allowed to circulate in society for a month.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I also. Thank goodness I shall at last get all the sleep I want.’ + </p> + <p> + Much to Mrs. Bent’s surprise she and the baby were brought over to the + house almost before she knew where she was. Bent was devoutly and + undisguisedly thankful, for he was afraid of the infection, and also hoped + that a few weeks in the hotel alone with Mrs. Delville might lead to + explanations. Mrs. Bent had thrown her jealousy to the winds in her fear + for her child’s life. + </p> + <p> + ‘We can give you good milk,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee to her, ‘and our house is + much nearer to the Doctor’s than the hotel, and you won’t feel as though + you were living in a hostile camp. Where is the dear Mrs. Waddy? She + seemed to be a particular friend of yours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ve all left me,’ said Mrs. Bent bitterly. ‘Mrs. Waddy went first. + She said I ought to be ashamed of myself for introducing diseases there, + and I am sure it wasn’t my fault that little Dora—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How nice!’ cooed Mrs. Hauksbee. ‘The Waddy is an infectious disease + herself “more quickly caught than the plague and the taker runs presently + mad.” I lived next door to her at the Elysium, three years ago. Now see, + you won’t give us the least trouble, and I’ve ornamented all the house + with sheets soaked in carbolic. It smells comforting, doesn’t it? Remember + I’m always in call, and my ayah’s at your service when yours goes to her + meals, and and if you cry I’ll never forgive you.’ + </p> + <p> + Dora Bent occupied her mother’s unprofitable attention through the day and + the night. The Doctor called thrice in the twenty-four hours, and the + house reeked with the smell of the Condy’s Fluid, chlorine-water, and + carbolic acid washes. Mrs. Mallowe kept to her own rooms she considered + that she had made sufficient concessions in the cause of humanity and Mrs. + Hauksbee was more esteemed by the Doctor as a help in the sick-room than + the half-distraught mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know nothing of illness,’ said Mrs. Hauksbee to the Doctor. ‘Only tell + me what to do, and I’ll do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep that crazy woman from kissing the child, and let her have as little + to do with the nursing as you possibly can,’ said the Doctor; ‘I’d turn + her out of the sick-room, but that I honestly believe she’d die of + anxiety. She is less than no good, and I depend on you and the ayahs, + remember.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee accepted the responsibility, though it painted olive hollows + under her eyes and forced her to her oldest dresses. Mrs. Bent clung to + her with more than childlike faith. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know you’ll make Dora well, won’t you?’ she said at least twenty times + a day; and twenty times a day Mrs. Hauksbee answered valiantly, ‘Of course + I will.’ + </p> + <p> + But Dora did not improve, and the Doctor seemed to be always in the house. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s some danger of the thing taking a bad turn,’ he said; ‘I’ll come + over between three and four in the morning to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee. ‘He never told me what the turn would + be! My education has been horribly neglected; and I have only this foolish + mother-woman to fall back upon.’ + </p> + <p> + The night wore through slowly, and Mrs. Hauksbee dozed in a chair by the + fire. There was a dance at the Viceregal Lodge, and she dreamed of it till + she was aware of Mrs. Bent’s anxious eyes staring into her own. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wake up! Wake up! Do something!’ cried Mrs. Bent piteously. ‘Dora’s + choking to death! Do you mean to let her die?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee jumped to her feet and bent over the bed. The child was + fighting for breath, while the mother wrung her hands despairingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, what can I do? What can you do? She won’t stay still! I can’t hold + her. Why didn’t the Doctor say this was coming?’ screamed Mrs. Bent. + ‘Won’t you help me? She’s dying!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I I’ve never seen a child die before!’ stammered Mrs. Hauksbee feebly, + and then let none blame her weakness after the strain of long watching she + broke down, and covered her face with her hands. The ayahs on the + threshold snored peacefully. + </p> + <p> + There was a rattle of ‘rickshaw wheels below, the clash of an opening + door, a heavy step on the stairs, and Mrs. Delville entered to find Mrs. + Bent screaming for the Doctor as she ran round the room. Mrs. Hauksbee, + her hands to her ears, and her face buried in the chintz of a chair, was + quivering with pain at each cry from the bed, and murmuring, ‘Thank God, I + never bore a child! Oh! thank God, I never bore a child!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Delville looked at the bed for an instant, took Mrs. Bent by the + shoulders, and said quietly, ‘Get me some caustic. Be quick.’ + </p> + <p> + The mother obeyed mechanically. Mrs. Delville had thrown herself down by + the side of the child and was opening its mouth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you’re killing her!’ cried Mrs. Bent. ‘Where’s the Doctor? Leave her + alone!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Delville made no reply for a minute, but busied herself with the + child. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now the caustic, and hold a lamp behind my shoulder. Will you do as you + are told? The acid-bottle, if you don’t know what I mean,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + A second time Mrs. Delville bent over the child. Mrs. Hauksbee, her face + still hidden, sobbed and shivered. One of the ayahs staggered sleepily + into the room, yawning: ‘Doctor Sahib come.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Delville turned her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re only just in time,’ she said. ‘It was chokin’ her when I came, an’ + I’ve burnt it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There was no sign of the membrane getting to the air-passages after the + last steaming. It was the general weakness I feared,’ said the Doctor half + to himself, and he whispered as he looked, ‘You’ve done what I should have + been afraid to do without consultation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She was dyin’,’ said Mrs. Delville, under her breath. ‘Can you do + anythin’? What a mercy it was I went to the dance!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee raised her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it all over?’ she gasped. ‘I’m useless I’m worse than useless! What + are you doing here?’ + </p> + <p> + She stared at Mrs. Delville, and Mrs. Bent, realising for the first time + who was the Goddess from the Machine, stared also. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Delville made explanation, putting on a dirty long glove and + smoothing a crumpled and ill-fitting ball-dress. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was at the dance, an’ the Doctor was tellin’ me about your baby bein’ + so ill. So I came away early, an’ your door was open, an’ I I lost my boy + this way six months ago, an’ I’ve been tryin’ to forget it ever since, an’ + I I I am very sorry for intrudin’ an’ anythin’ that has happened.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bent was putting out the Doctor’s eye with a lamp as he stooped over + Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take it away,’ said the Doctor. ‘I think the child will do, thanks to + you, Mrs. Delville. I should have come too late, but, I assure you’ he was + addressing himself to Mrs. Delville ‘I had not the faintest reason to + expect this. The membrane must have grown like a mushroom. Will one of you + help me, please?’ + </p> + <p> + He had reason for the last sentence. Mrs. Hauksbee had thrown herself into + Mrs. Delville’s arms, where she was weeping bitterly, and Mrs. Bent was + unpicturesquely mixed up with both, while from the tangle came the sound + of many sobs and much promiscuous kissing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious! I’ve spoilt all your beautiful roses!’ said Mrs. Hauksbee, + lifting her head from the lump of crushed gum and calico atrocities on + Mrs. Delville’s shoulder and hurrying to the Doctor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Delville picked up her shawl, and slouched out of the room, mopping + her eyes with the glove that she had not put on. + </p> + <p> + ‘I always said she was more than a woman,’ sobbed Mrs. Hauksbee + hysterically, ‘and that proves it!’ + </p> + <p> + Six weeks later Mrs. Bent and Dora had returned to the hotel. Mrs. + Hauksbee had come out of the Valley of Humiliation, had ceased to reproach + herself for her collapse in an hour of need, and was even beginning to + direct the affairs of the world as before. + </p> + <p> + ‘So nobody died, and everything went off as it should, and I kissed The + Dowd, Polly. I feel so old. Does it show in my face?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kisses don’t as a rule, do they? Of course you know what the result of + The Dowd’s providential arrival has been.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They ought to build her a statue only no sculptor dare copy those + skirts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Mrs. Mallowe quietly. ‘She has found another reward. The + Dancing Master has been smirking through Simla, giving every one to + understand that she came because of her undying love for him for him to + save his child, and all Simla naturally believes this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But Mrs. Bent—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs. Bent believes it more than any one else. She won’t speak to The Dowd + now. Isn’t The Dancing Master an angel?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee lifted up her voice and raged till bed-time. The doors of + the two rooms stood open. + </p> + <p> + ‘Polly,’ said a voice from the darkness, ‘what did that + American-heiress-globe-trotter girl say last season when she was tipped + out of her ‘rickshaw turning a corner? Some absurd adjective that made the + man who picked her up explode.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Paltry,”’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘Through her nose like this “Ha-ow + pahltry!”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Exactly,’ said the voice. ‘Ha-ow pahltry it all is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Everything. Babies, Diphtheria, Mrs. Bent and The Dancing Master, I + whooping in a chair, and The Dowd dropping in from the clouds. I wonder + what the motive was all the motives.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Um!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you think?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t ask me. Go to sleep.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ONLY A SUBALTERN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + .... Not only to enforce by command, but to encourage by + example the energetic discharge of duty and the steady endurance + of the difficulties and privations inseparable from Military Service. + —Bengal Army Regulations. +</pre> + <p> + They made Bobby Wick pass an examination at Sandhurst. He was a gentleman + before he was gazetted, so, when the Empress announced that + ‘Gentleman-Cadet Robert Hanna Wick’ was posted as Second Lieutenant to the + Tyneside Tail Twisters at Krab Bokhar, he became an officer and a + gentleman, which is an enviable thing; and there was joy in the house of + Wick where Mamma Wick and all the little Wicks fell upon their knees and + offered incense to Bobby by virtue of his achievements. + </p> + <p> + Papa Wick had been a Commissioner in his day, holding authority over three + millions of men in the Chota-Buldana Division, building great works for + the good of the land, and doing his best to make two blades of grass grow + where there was but one before. Of course, nobody knew anything about this + in the little English village where he was just ‘old Mr. Wick,’ and had + forgotten that he was a Companion of the Order of the Star of India. + </p> + <p> + He patted Bobby on the shoulder and said: ‘Well done, my boy!’ + </p> + <p> + There followed, while the uniform was being prepared, an interval of pure + delight, during which Bobby took brevet-rank as a ‘man’ at the + women-swamped tennis-parties and tea-fights of the village, and, I + daresay, had his joining-time been extended, would have fallen in love + with several girls at once. Little country villages at Home are very full + of nice girls, because all the young men come out to India to make their + fortunes. + </p> + <p> + ‘India,’ said Papa Wick, ‘is the place. I’ve had thirty years of it and, + begad, I’d like to go back again. When you join the Tail Twisters you’ll + be among friends, if every one hasn’t forgotten Wick of Chota-Buldana, and + a lot of people will be kind to you for our sakes. The mother will tell + you more about outfit than I can; but remember this. Stick to your + Regiment, Bobby stick to your Regiment. You’ll see men all round you going + into the Staff Corps, and doing every possible sort of duty but + regimental, and you may be tempted to follow suit. Now so long as you keep + within your allowance, and I haven’t stinted you there, stick to the Line, + the whole Line, and nothing but the Line. Be careful how you back another + young fool’s bill, and if you fall in love with a woman twenty years older + than yourself, don’t tell me about it, that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + With these counsels, and many others equally valuable, did Papa Wick + fortify Bobby ere that last awful night at Portsmouth when the Officers’ + Quarters held more inmates than were provided for by the Regulations, and + the liberty-men of the ships fell foul of the drafts for India, and the + battle raged from the Dockyard Gates even to the slums of Longport, while + the drabs of Fratton came down and scratched the faces of the Queen’s + Officers. + </p> + <p> + Bobby Wick, with an ugly bruise on his freckled nose, a sick and shaky + detachment to manuvre in ship, and the comfort of fifty scornful females + to attend to, had no time to feel home-sick till the Malabar reached + mid-Channel, when he doubled his emotions with a little guard-visiting and + a great many other matters. + </p> + <p> + The Tail Twisters were a most particular Regiment. Those who knew them + least said that they were eaten up with ‘side.’ But their reserve and + their internal arrangements generally were merely protective diplomacy. + Some five years before, the Colonel commanding had looked into the + fourteen fearless eyes of seven plump and juicy subalterns who had all + applied to enter the Staff Corps, and had asked them why the three stars + should he, a colonel of the Line, command a dashed nursery for + double-dashed bottle-suckers who put on condemned tin spurs and rode + qualified mokes at the hiatused heads of forsaken Black Regiments. He was + a rude man and a terrible. Wherefore the remnant took measures [with the + half-butt as an engine of public opinion] till the rumour went abroad that + young men who used the Tail Twisters as a crutch to the Staff Corps had + many and varied trials to endure. However, a regiment had just as much + right to its own secrets as a woman. + </p> + <p> + When Bobby came up from Deolali and took his’ place among the Tail + Twisters, it was gently but firmly borne in upon him that the Regiment was + his father and his mother and his indissolubly wedded wife, and that there + was no crime under the canopy of heaven blacker than that of bringing + shame on the Regiment, which was the best-shooting, best-drilled, + best-set-up, bravest, most illustrious, and in all respects most desirable + Regiment within the compass of the Seven Seas. He was taught the legends + of the Mess Plate, from the great grinning Golden Gods that had come out + of the Summer Palace in Pekin to the silver-mounted markhor-horn + snuff-mull presented by the last C.O. [he who spake to the seven + subalterns]. And every one of those legends told him of battles fought at + long odds, without fear as without support; of hospitality catholic as an + Arab’s; of friendships deep as the sea and steady as the fighting-line; of + honour won by hard roads for honour’s sake; and of instant and + unquestioning devotion to the Regiment the Regiment that claims the lives + of all and lives for ever. + </p> + <p> + More than once, too, he came officially into contact with the Regimental + colours, which looked like the lining of a bricklayer’s hat on the end of + a chewed stick. Bobby did not kneel and worship them, because British + subalterns are not constructed in that manner. Indeed, he condemned them + for their weight at the very moment that they were filling with awe and + other more noble sentiments. + </p> + <p> + But best of all was the occasion when he moved with the Tail Twisters in + review order at the breaking of a November day. Allowing for duty-men and + sick, the Regiment was one thousand and eighty strong, and Bobby belonged + to them; for was he not a Subaltern of the Line the whole Line, and + nothing but the Line as the tramp of two thousand one hundred and sixty + sturdy ammunition boots attested? He would not have changed places with + Deighton of the Horse Battery, whirling by in a pillar of cloud to a + chorus of ‘Strong right! Strong left!’ or Hogan-Yale of the White Hussars, + leading his squadron for all it was worth, with the price of horseshoes + thrown in; or ‘Tick’ Boileau, trying to live up to his fierce blue and + gold turban while the wasps of the Bengal Cavalry stretched to a gallop in + the wake of the long, lollopping Walers of the White Hussars. + </p> + <p> + They fought through the clear cool day, and Bobby felt a little thrill run + down his spine when he heard the tinkle-tinkle-tinkle of the empty + cartridge-cases hopping from the breech-blocks after the roar of the + volleys; for he knew that he should live to hear that sound in action. The + review ended in a glorious chase across the plain batteries thundering + after cavalry to the huge disgust of the White Hussars, and the Tyneside + Tail Twisters hunting a Sikh Regiment, till the lean lathy Singhs panted + with exhaustion. Bobby was dusty and dripping long before noon, but his + enthusiasm was merely focused not diminished. + </p> + <p> + He returned to sit at the feet of Revere, his ‘skipper,’ that is to say, + the Captain of his Company, and to be instructed in the dark art and + mystery of managing men, which is a very large part of the Profession of + Arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you haven’t a taste that way,’ said Revere between his puffs of his + cheroot, ‘you’ll never be able to get the hang of it, but remember, Bobby, + ‘t isn’t the best drill, though drill is nearly everything, that hauls a + Regiment through Hell and out on the other side. It’s the man who knows + how to handle men goat-men, swine-men, dog-men, and so on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dormer, for instance,’ said Bobby, ‘I think he comes under the head of + fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn’t a fool yet, but + he’s a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes fun of his socks + before kit-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds pure brute, goes into a + corner and growls.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you know?’ said Bobby admiringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because a Company commander has to know these things because, if he does + not know, he may have crime ay, murder brewing under his very nose and yet + not see that it’s there. Dormer is being badgered out of his mind big as + he is and he hasn’t intellect enough to resent it. He’s taken to quiet + boozing, and, Bobby, when the butt of a room goes on the drink, or takes + to moping by himself, measures are necessary to pull him out of himself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What measures? ‘Man can’t run round coddling his men for ever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. The men would precious soon show him that he was not wanted. You’ve + got to—’ + </p> + <p> + Here the Colour-Sergeant entered with some papers; Bobby reflected for a + while as Revere looked through the Company forms. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does Dormer do anything, Sergeant?’ Bobby asked with the air of one + continuing an interrupted conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir. Does ‘is dooty like a hortomato,’ said the Sergeant, who + delighted in long words. ‘A dirty soldier and ‘e’s under full stoppages + for new kit. It’s covered with scales, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Scales? What scales?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fish-scales, sir. ‘E’s always pokin’ in the mud by the river an’ + a-cleanin’ them muchly-fish with ‘is thumbs.’ Revere was still absorbed in + the Company papers, and the Sergeant, who was sternly fond of Bobby, + continued, ‘’E generally goes down there when ‘e’s got ‘is skinful, + beggin’ your pardon, sir, an’ they do say that the more lush in-he-briated + ‘e is, the more fish ‘e catches. They call ‘im the Looney Fishmonger in + the Comp’ny, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + Revere signed the last paper and the Sergeant retreated. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a filthy amusement,’ sighed Bobby to himself. Then aloud to Revere: + ‘Are you really worried about Dormer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A little. You see he’s never mad enough to send to hospital, or drunk + enough to run in, but at any minute he may flare up, brooding and sulking + as he does. He resents any interest being shown in him, and the only time + I took him out shooting he all but shot me by accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I fish,’ said Bobby with a wry face. ‘I hire a country-boat and go down + the river from Thursday to Sunday, and the amiable Dormer goes with me if + you can spare us both.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You blazing young fool!’ said Revere, but his heart was full of much more + pleasant words. + </p> + <p> + Bobby, the Captain of a dhoni, with Private Dormer for mate, dropped down + the river on Thursday morning the Private at the bow, the Subaltern at the + helm. The Private glared uneasily at the Subaltern, who respected the + reserve of the Private. + </p> + <p> + After six hours, Dormer paced to the stern, saluted, and said ‘Beg y’ + pardon, sir, but was you ever on the Durh’m Canal?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Bobby Wick. ‘Come and have some tiffin.’ + </p> + <p> + They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke forth, + speaking to himself, + </p> + <p> + ‘Hi was on the Durh’m Canal, jes’ such a night, come next week twelve + month, a-trailin’ of my toes in the water.’ He smoked and said no more + till bedtime. + </p> + <p> + The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple, gold, + and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept across the + splendours of a new heaven. + </p> + <p> + Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the glory + below and around. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well damn my eyes!’ said Private Dormer in an awed whisper. ‘This ‘ere is + like a bloomin’ gallantry-show!’ For the rest of the day he was dumb, but + achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the cleaning of big fish. + </p> + <p> + The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been struggling with + speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were being disembarked, he + found tongue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Beg y’ pardon, sir,’ he said, ‘but would you would you min’ shakin’ ‘ands + with me, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course not,’ said Bobby, and he shook accordingly. Dormer returned to + barracks and Bobby to mess. + </p> + <p> + ‘He wanted a little quiet and some fishing, I think,’ said Bobby. ‘My + aunt, but he’s a filthy sort of animal! Have you ever seen him clean them + muchly-fish with ‘is thumbs”?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anyhow,’ said Revere three weeks later, ‘he’s doing his best to keep his + things clean.’ + </p> + <p> + When the spring died, Bobby joined in the general scramble for Hill leave, + and to his surprise and delight secured three months. + </p> + <p> + ‘As good a boy as I want,’ said Revere the admiring skipper. + </p> + <p> + ‘The best of the batch,’ said the Adjutant to the Colonel. ‘Keep back that + young skrim-shanker Porkiss, sir, and let Revere make him sit up.’ + </p> + <p> + So Bobby departed joyously to Simla Pahar with a tin box of gorgeous + raiment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Son of Wick old Wick of Chota-Buldana? Ask him to dinner, dear,’ said the + aged men. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a nice boy!’ said the matrons and the maids. + </p> + <p> + ‘First-class place, Simla. Oh, ripping!’ said Bobby Wick, and ordered new + white cord breeches on the strength of it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re in a bad way,’ wrote Revere to Bobby at the end of two months. + ‘Since you left, the Regiment has taken to fever and is fairly rotten with + it two hundred in hospital, about a hundred in cells drinking to keep off + fever and the Companies on parade fifteen file strong at the outside. + There’s rather more sickness in the out-villages than I care for, but then + I’m so blistered with prickly-heat that I’m ready to hang myself. What’s + the yarn about your mashing a Miss Haverley up there? Not serious, I hope? + You’re over-young to hang millstones round your neck, and the Colonel will + turf you out of that in double-quick time if you attempt it.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not the Colonel that brought Bobby out of Simla, but a + much-more-to-be-respected Commandant. The sickness in the out-villages + spread, the Bazar was put out of bounds, and then came the news that the + Tail Twisters must go into camp. The message flashed to the Hill stations. + ‘Cholera Leave stopped Officers recalled.’ Alas for the white gloves in + the neatly-soldered boxes, the rides and the dances and picnics that were + to be, the loves half spoken, and the debts unpaid! Without demur and + without question, fast as tonga could fly or pony gallop, back to their + Regiments and their Batteries, as though they were hastening to their + weddings, fled the subalterns. + </p> + <p> + Bobby received his orders on returning from a dance at Viceregal Lodge + where he had But only the Haverley girl knows what Bobby had said, or how + many waltzes he had claimed for the next ball. Six in the morning saw + Bobby at the Tonga Office in the drenching rain, the whirl of the last + waltz still in his ears, and an intoxication due neither to wine nor + waltzing in his brain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good man!’ shouted Deighton of the Horse Battery through the mist. ‘Whar + you raise dat tonga? I’m coming with you. Ow! But I’ve a head and a half. + I didn’t sit out all night. They say the Battery’s awful bad,’ and he + hummed dolorously, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Leave the what at the what’s-its-name, + Leave the flock without shelter, + Leave the corpse uninterred, + Leave the bride at the altar! +</pre> + <p> + ‘My faith! It’ll be more bally corpse than bride, though, this journey. + Jump in, Bobby. Get on, Coachwan!’ + </p> + <p> + On the Umballa platform waited a detachment of officers discussing the + latest news from the stricken cantonment, and it was here that Bobby + learned the real condition of the Tail Twisters. + </p> + <p> + ‘They went into camp,’ said an elderly Major recalled from the + whist-tables at Mussoorie to a sickly Native Regiment, ‘they went into + camp with two hundred and ten sick in carts. Two hundred and ten fever + cases only, and the balance looking like so many ghosts with sore eyes. A + Madras Regiment could have walked through ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But they were as fit as be-damned when I left them!’ said Bobby. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’d better make them as fit as bedamned when you rejoin,’ said the + Major brutally. + </p> + <p> + Bobby pressed his forehead against the rain-splashed window-pane as the + train lumbered across the sodden Doab, and prayed for the health of the + Tyneside Tail Twisters. Naini Tal had sent down her contingent with all + speed; the lathering ponies of the Dalhousie Road staggered into + Pathankot, taxed to the full stretch of their strength; while from cloudy + Darjiling the Calcutta Mail whirled up the last straggler of the little + army that was to fight a fight in which was neither medal nor honour for + the winning, against an enemy none other than ‘the sickness that + destroyeth in the noonday.’ + </p> + <p> + And as each man reported himself, he said: ‘This is a bad business,’ and + went about his own forthwith, for every Regiment and Battery in the + cantonment was under canvas, the sickness bearing them company. + </p> + <p> + Bobby fought his way through the rain to the Tail Twisters’ temporary + mess, and Revere could have fallen on the boy’s neck for the joy of seeing + that ugly, wholesome phiz once more. + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep’ em amused and interested,’ said Revere. ‘They went on the drink, + poor fools, after the first two cases, and there was no improvement. Oh, + it’s good to have you back, Bobby! Porkiss is a never mind.’ + </p> + <p> + Deighton came over from the Artillery camp to attend a dreary mess dinner, + and contributed to the general gloom by nearly weeping over the condition + of his beloved Battery. Porkiss so far forgot himself as to insinuate that + the presence of the officers could do no earthly good, and that the best + thing would be to send the entire Regiment into hospital and ‘let the + doctors look after them.’ Porkiss was demoralised with fear, nor was his + peace of mind restored when Revere said coldly: ‘Oh! The sooner you go out + the better, if that’s your way of thinking. Any public school could send + us fifty good men in your place, but it takes time, time, Porkiss, and + money, and a certain amount of trouble, to make a Regiment. ‘S’pose you’re + the person we go into camp for, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Porkiss was overtaken with a great and chilly fear which a + drenching in the rain did not allay, and, two days later, quitted this + world for another where, men do fondly hope, allowances are made for the + weaknesses of the flesh. The Regimental Sergeant-Major looked wearily + across the Sergeants’ Mess tent when the news was announced. + </p> + <p> + ‘There goes the worst of them,’ he said. ‘It’ll take the best, and then, + please God, it’ll stop.’ The Sergeants were silent till one said: ‘It + couldn’t be him!’ and all knew of whom Travis was thinking. + </p> + <p> + Bobby Wick stormed through the tents of his Company, rallying, rebuking, + mildly, as is consistent with the Regulations, chaffing the faint-hearted; + haling the sound into the watery sunlight when there was a break in the + weather, and bidding them be of good cheer for their trouble was nearly at + an end; scuttling on his dun pony round the outskirts of the camp, and + heading back men who, with the innate perversity of British soldiers, were + always wandering into infected villages, or drinking deeply from + rain-flooded marshes; comforting the panic-stricken with rude speech, and + more than once tending the dying who had no friends the men without + ‘townies’; organising, with banjos and burnt cork, Sing-songs which should + allow the talent of the Regiment full play; and generally, as he + explained, ‘playing the giddy garden-goat all round.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re worth half-a-dozen of us, Bobby,’ said Revere in a moment of + enthusiasm. ‘How the devil do you keep it up?’ + </p> + <p> + Bobby made no answer, but had Revere looked into the breast-pocket of his + coat he might have seen there a sheaf of badly-written letters which + perhaps accounted for the power that possessed the boy. A letter came to + Bobby every other day. The spelling was not above reproach, but the + sentiments must have been most satisfactory, for on receipt Bobby’s eyes + softened marvellously, and he was wont to fall into a tender abstraction + for a while ere, shaking his cropped head, he charged into his work. + </p> + <p> + By what power he drew after him the hearts of the roughest, and the Tail + Twisters counted in their ranks some rough diamonds indeed, was a mystery + to both skipper and C. O., who learned from the regimental chaplain that + Bobby was considerably more in request in the hospital tents than the + Reverend John Emery. + </p> + <p> + ‘The men seem fond of you. Are you in the hospitals much?’ said the + Colonel, who did his daily round and ordered the men to get well with a + hardness that did not cover his bitter grief. + </p> + <p> + ‘A little, sir,’ said Bobby. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shouldn’t go there too often if I were you. They say it’s not contagious, + but there’s no use in running unnecessary risks. We can’t afford to have + you down, y’know.’ + </p> + <p> + Six days later, it was with the utmost difficulty that the post-runner + plashed his way out to the camp with the mail-bags, for the rain was + falling in torrents. Bobby received a letter, bore it off to his tent, + and, the programme for the next week’s Sing-song being satisfactorily + disposed of, sat down to answer it. For an hour the unhandy pen toiled + over the paper, and where sentiment rose to more than normal tide-level, + Bobby Wick stuck out his tongue and breathed heavily. He was not used to + letter-writing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Beg y’ pardon, sir,’ said a voice at the tent door; ‘but Dormer’s ‘orrid + bad, sir, an’ they’ve taken him orf, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Damn Private Dormer and you too!’ said Bobby Wick, running the blotter + over the half-finished letter. ‘Tell him I’ll come in the morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘’E’s awful bad, sir,’ said the voice hesitatingly. There was an undecided + squelching of heavy boots. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ said Bobby impatiently. + </p> + <p> + ‘Excusin’ ‘imself before ‘and for takin’ the liberty, ‘e says it would be + a comfort for to assist ‘im, sir, if—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tattoo lao! Get my pony! Here, come in out of the rain till I’m ready. + What blasted nuisances you are! That’s brandy. Drink some; you want it. + Hang on to my stirrup and tell me if I go too fast.’ + </p> + <p> + Strengthened by a four-finger ‘nip’ which he swallowed without a wink, the + Hospital Orderly kept up with the slipping, mud-stained, and very + disgusted pony as it shambled to the hospital tent. + </p> + <p> + Private Dormer was certainly ‘’orrid bad.’ He had all but reached the + stage of collapse and was not pleasant to look upon. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s this, Dormer?’ said Bobby, bending over the man. ‘You’re not going + out this time. You’ve got to come fishing with me once or twice more yet.’ + </p> + <p> + The blue lips parted and in the ghost of a whisper said, ‘Beg y’ pardon, + sir, disturbin’ of you now, but would you min’ ‘oldin’ my ‘and, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + Bobby sat on the side of the bed, and the icy cold hand closed on his own + like a vice, forcing a lady’s ring which was on the little finger deep + into the flesh. Bobby set his lips and waited, the water dripping from the + hem of his trousers. An hour passed and the grasp of the hand did not + relax, nor did the expression of the drawn face change. Bobby with + infinite craft lit himself a cheroot with the left hand, his right arm was + numbed to the elbow, and resigned himself to a night of pain. + </p> + <p> + Dawn showed a very white-faced Subaltern sitting on the side of a sick + man’s cot, and a Doctor in the doorway using language unfit for + publication. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you been here all night, you young ass?’ said the Doctor. + </p> + <p> + ‘There or thereabouts,’ said Bobby ruefully. ‘He’s frozen on to me.’ + </p> + <p> + Dormer’s mouth shut with a click. He turned his head and sighed. The + clinging hand opened, and Bobby’s arm fell useless at his side. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’ll do,’ said the Doctor quietly. ‘It must have been a toss-up all + through the night. ‘Think you’re to be congratulated on this case.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, bosh!’ said Bobby. ‘I thought the man had gone out long ago only only + I didn’t care to take my hand away. Rub my arm down, there’s a good chap. + What a grip the brute has! I’m chilled to the marrow!’ He passed out of + the tent shivering. + </p> + <p> + Private Dormer was allowed to celebrate his repulse of Death by strong + waters. Four days later he sat on the side of his cot and said to the + patients mildly: ‘I’d ‘a’ liken to ‘a’ spoken to ‘im so I should.’ + </p> + <p> + But at that time Bobby was reading yet another letter he had the most + persistent correspondent of any man in camp and was even then about to + write that the sickness had abated, and in another week at the outside + would be gone. He did not intend to say that the chill of a sick man’s + hand seemed to have struck into the heart whose capacities for affection + he dwelt on at such length. He did intend to enclose the illustrated + programme of the forthcoming Sing-song whereof he was not a little proud. + He also intended to write on many other matters which do not concern us, + and doubtless would have done so but for the slight feverish headache + which made him dull and unresponsive at mess. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are overdoing it, Bobby,’ said his skipper. ‘Might give the rest of + us credit of doing a little work. You go on as if you were the whole Mess + rolled into one. Take it easy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will,’ said Bobby. ‘I’m feeling done up, somehow.’ Revere looked at him + anxiously and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + There was a flickering of lanterns about the camp that night, and a rumour + that brought men out of their cots to the tent doors, a paddling of the + naked feet of doolie-bearers and the rush of a galloping horse. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wot’s up?’ asked twenty tents; and through twenty tents ran the answer + ‘Wick, ‘e’s down.’ + </p> + <p> + They brought the news to Revere and he groaned. ‘Any one but Bobby and I + shouldn’t have cared! The Sergeant-Major was right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not going out this journey,’ gasped Bobby, as he was lifted from the + doolie. ‘Not going out this journey.’ Then with an air of supreme + conviction ‘I can’t, you see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not if I can do anything!’ said the Surgeon-Major, who had hastened over + from the mess where he had been dining. + </p> + <p> + He and the Regimental Surgeon fought together with Death for the life of + Bobby Wick. Their work was interrupted by a hairy apparition in a bluegray + dressing-gown who stared in horror at the bed and cried ‘Oh, my Gawd! It + can’t be ‘im!’ until an indignant Hospital Orderly whisked him away. + </p> + <p> + If care of man and desire to live could have done aught, Bobby would have + been saved. As it was, he made a fight of three days, and the + Surgeon-Major’s brow uncreased. ‘We’ll save him yet,’ he said; and the + Surgeon, who, though he ranked with the Captain, had a very youthful + heart, went out upon the word and pranced joyously in the mud. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not going out this journey,’ whispered Bobby Wick gallantly, at the end + of the third day. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bravo!’ said the Surgeon-Major. ‘That’s the way to look at it, Bobby.’ + </p> + <p> + As evening fell a gray shade gathered round Bobby’s mouth, and he turned + his face to the tent wall wearily. The Surgeon-Major frowned. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m awfully tired,’ said Bobby, very faintly. ‘What’s the use of + bothering me with medicine? I don’t want it. Let me alone.’ + </p> + <p> + The desire for life had departed, and Bobby was content to drift away on + the easy tide of Death. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no good,’ said the Surgeon-Major. ‘He doesn’t want to live. He’s + meeting it, poor child.’ And he blew his nose. + </p> + <p> + Half a mile away the regimental band was playing the overture to the + Sing-song, for the men had been told that Bobby was out of danger. The + clash of the brass and the wail of the horns reached Bobby’s ears. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Is there a single joy or pain, + That I should never kno-ow? + You do not love me, ‘tis in vain, + Bid me good-bye and go! +</pre> + <p> + An expression of hopeless irritation crossed the boy’s face, and he tried + to shake his head. + </p> + <p> + The Surgeon-Major bent down ‘What is it, Bobby?’ ‘Not that waltz,’ + muttered Bobby. ‘That’s our own our very ownest own. Mummy dear.’ + </p> + <p> + With this he sank into the stupor that gave place to death early next + morning. + </p> + <p> + Revere, his eyes red at the rims and his nose very white, went into + Bobby’s tent to write a letter to Papa Wick which should bow the white + head of the ex-Commissioner of Chota-Buldana in the keenest sorrow of his + life. Bobby’s little store of papers lay in confusion on the table, and + among them a half-finished letter. The last sentence ran: ‘So you see, + darling, there is really no fear, because as long as I know you care for + me and I care for you, nothing can touch me.’ + </p> + <p> + Revere stayed in the tent for an hour. When he came out his eyes were + redder than ever. + </p> + <p> + Private Conklin sat on a turned-down bucket, and listened to a not + unfamiliar tune. Private Conklin was a convalescent and should have been + tenderly treated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ho!’ said Private Conklin. ‘There’s another bloomin’ orf’cer da ed.’ + </p> + <p> + The bucket shot from under him, and his eyes filled with a smithyful of + sparks. A tall man in a blue-gray bedgown was regarding him with deep + disfavour. + </p> + <p> + ‘You ought to take shame for yourself, Conky! Orf’cer? Bloomin’ orf’cer? + I’ll learn you to misname the likes of ‘im. Hangel! Bloomin’ Hangel! + That’s wot’e is!’ + </p> + <p> + And the Hospital Orderly was so satisfied with the justice of the + punishment that he did not even order Private Dormer back to his cot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hurrah! hurrah! a soldier’s life for me! Shout, boys, shout! for it + makes you jolly and free. + —The Ramrod Corps. +</pre> + <p> + PEOPLE who have seen, say that one of the quaintest spectacles of human + frailty is an outbreak of hysterics in a girls’ school. It starts without + warning, generally on a hot afternoon among the elder pupils. A girl + giggles till the giggle gets beyond control. Then she throws up her head, + and cries, “Honk, honk, honk,” like a wild goose, and tears mix with the + laughter. If the mistress be wise she will rap out something severe at + this point and check matters. If she be tender-hearted, and send for a + drink of water, the chances are largely in favor of another girl laughing + at the afflicted one and herself collapsing. Thus the trouble spreads, and + may end in half of what answers to the Lower Sixth of a boys’ school + rocking and whooping together. Given a week of warm weather, two stately + promenades per diem, a heavy mutton and rice meal in the middle of the + day, a certain amount of nagging from the teachers, and a few other + things, some amazing effects develop. At least this is what folk say who + have had experience. + </p> + <p> + Now, the Mother Superior of a Convent and the Colonel of a British + Infantry Regiment would be justly shocked at any comparison being made + between their respective charges. But it is a fact that, under certain + circumstances, Thomas in bulk can be worked up into ditthering, rippling + hysteria. He does not weep, but he shows his trouble unmistakably, and the + consequences get into the newspapers, and all the good people who hardly + know a Martini from a Snider say: “Take away the brute’s ammunition!” + </p> + <p> + Thomas isn’t a brute, and his business, which is to look after the + virtuous people, demands that he shall have his ammunition to his hand. He + doesn’t wear silk stockings, and he really ought to be supplied with a new + Adjective to help him to express his opinions; but, for all that, he is a + great man. If you call him “the heroic defender of the national honor” one + day, and “a brutal and licentious soldiery” the next, you naturally + bewilder him, and he looks upon you with suspicion. There is nobody to + speak for Thomas except people who have theories to work off on him; and + nobody understands Thomas except Thomas, and he does not always know what + is the matter with himself. + </p> + <p> + That is the prologue. This is the story: + </p> + <p> + Corporal Slane was engaged to be married to Miss Jhansi M’Kenna, whose + history is well known in the regiment and elsewhere. He had his Colonel’s + permission, and, being popular with the men, every arrangement had been + made to give the wedding what Private Ortheris called “eeklar.” It fell in + the heart of the hot weather, and, after the wedding, Slane was going up + to the Hills with the Bride. None the less, Slane’s grievance was that the + affair would be only a hired-carriage wedding, and he felt that the + “eeklar” of that was meagre. Miss M’Kenna did not care so much. The + Sergeant’s wife was helping her to make her wedding-dress, and she was + very busy. Slane was, just then, the only moderately contented man in + barracks. All the rest were more or less miserable. + </p> + <p> + And they had so much to make them happy, too. All their work was over at + eight in the morning, and for the rest of the day they could lie on their + backs and smoke Canteen-plug and swear at the punkah-coolies. They enjoyed + a fine, full flesh meal in the middle of the day, and then threw + themselves down on their cots and sweated and slept till it was cool + enough to go out with their “towny,” whose vocabulary contained less than + six hundred words, and the Adjective, and whose views on every conceivable + question they had heard many times before. + </p> + <p> + There was the Canteen, of course, and there was the Temperance Room with + the second-hand papers in it; but a man of any profession cannot read for + eight hours a day in a temperature of 96 degrees or 98 degrees in the + shade, running up sometimes to 103 degrees at midnight. Very few men, even + though they get a pannikin of flat, stale, muddy beer and hide it under + their cots, can continue drinking for six hours a day. One man tried, but + he died, and nearly the whole regiment went to his funeral because it gave + them something to do. It was too early for the excitement of fever or + cholera. The men could only wait and wait and wait, and watch the shadow + of the barrack creeping across the blinding white dust. That was a gay + life. + </p> + <p> + They lounged about cantonments-it was too hot for any sort of game, and + almost too hot for vice-and fuddled themselves in the evening, and filled + themselves to distension with the healthy nitrogenous food provided for + them, and the more they stoked the less exercise they took and more + explosive they grew. Then tempers began to wear away, and men fell + a-brooding over insults real or imaginary, for they had nothing else to + think of. The tone of the repartees changed, and instead of saying + light-heartedly: “I’ll knock your silly face in,” men grew laboriously + polite and hinted that the cantonments were not big enough for themselves + and their enemy, and that there would be more space for one of the two in + another place. + </p> + <p> + It may have been the Devil who arranged the thing, but the fact of the + case is that Losson had for a long time been worrying Simmons in an + aimless way. It gave him occupation. The two had their cots side by side, + and would sometimes spend a long afternoon swearing at each other; but + Simmons was afraid of Losson and dared not challenge him to a fight. He + thought over the words in the hot still nights, and half the hate he felt + toward Losson be vented on the wretched punkahcoolie. + </p> + <p> + Losson bought a parrot in the bazar, and put it into a little cage, and + lowered the cage into the cool darkness of a well, and sat on the + well-curb, shouting bad language down to the parrot. He taught it to say: + “Simmons, ye so-oor,” which means swine, and several other things entirely + unfit for publication. He was a big gross man, and he shook like a jelly + when the parrot had the sentence correctly. Simmons, however, shook with + rage, for all the room were laughing at him—the parrot was such a + disreputable puff of green feathers and it looked so human when it + chattered. Losson used to sit, swinging his fat legs, on the side of the + cot, and ask the parrot what it thought of Simmons. The parrot would + answer: “Simmons, ye so-oor.” “Good boy,” Losson used to say, scratching + the parrot’s head; “ye ‘ear that, Sim?” And Simmons used to turn over on + his stomach and make answer: “I ‘ear. Take ‘eed you don’t ‘ear something + one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + In the restless nights, after he had been asleep all day, fits of blind + rage came upon Simmonr and held him till he trembled all over, while he + thought in how many different ways he would slay Losson. Sometimes he + would picture himself trampling the life out of the man, with heavy + ammunition-boots, and at others smashing in his face with the butt, and at + others jumping on his shoulders and dragging the head back till the + neckbone cracked. Then his mouth would feel hot and fevered, and he would + reach out for another sup of the beer in the pannikin. + </p> + <p> + But the fancy that came to him most frequently and stayed with him longest + was one connected with the great roll of fat under Losson’s right ear. He + noticed it first on a moonlight night, and thereafter it was always before + his eyes. It was a fascinating roll of fat. A man could get his hand upon + it and tear away one side of the neck; or he could place the muzzle of a + rifle on it and blow away all the head in a flash. Losson had no right to + be sleek and contented and well-to-do, when he, Simmons, was the butt of + the room, Some day, perhaps, he would show those who laughed at the + “Simmons, ye so-oor” joke, that he was as good as the rest, and held a + man’s life in the crook of his forefinger. When Losson snored, Simmons + hated him more bitterly than ever. Why should Losson be able to sleep when + Simmons had to stay awake hour after hour, tossing and turning on the + tapes, with the dull liver pain gnawing into his right side and his head + throbbing and aching after Canteen? He thought over this for many nights, + and the world became unprofitable to him. He even blunted his naturally + fine appetite with beer and tobacco; and all the while the parrot talked + at and made a mock of him. + </p> + <p> + The heat continued and the tempers wore away more quickly than before. A + Sergeant’s wife died of heat—apoplexy in the night, and the rumor + ran abroad that it was cholera. Men rejoiced openly, hoping that it would + spread and send them into camp. But that was a false alarm. + </p> + <p> + It was late on a Tuesday evening, and the men were waiting in the deep + double verandas for “Last Posts,” when Simmons went to the box at the foot + of his bed, took out his pipe, and slammed the lid down with a bang that + echoed through the deserted barrack like the crack of a rifle. Ordinarily + speaking, the men would have taken no notice; but their nerves were + fretted to fiddle-strings. They jumped up, and three or four clattered + into the barrack-room only to find Simmons kneeling by his box. + </p> + <p> + “Owl It’s you, is it?” they said and laughed foolishly. “We thought ‘twas”— + </p> + <p> + Simmons rose slowly. If the accident had so shaken his fellows, what would + not the reality do? + </p> + <p> + “You thought it was—did you? And what makes you think?” he said, + lashing himself into madness as he went on; “to Hell with your thinking, + ye dirty spies.” + </p> + <p> + “Simmons, ye so-oor,” chuckled the parrot in the veranda, sleepily, + recognizing a well-known voice. Now that was absolutely all. + </p> + <p> + The tension snapped. Simmons fell back on the arm-rack deliberately,—the + men were at the far end of the room,—and took out his rifle and + packet of ammunition. “Don’t go playing the goat, Sim!” said Losson. “Put + it down,” but there was a quaver in his voice. Another man stooped, + slipped his boot and hurled it at Simmon’s head. The prompt answer was a + shot which, fired at random, found its billet in Losson’s throat. Losson + fell forward without a word, and the others scattered. + </p> + <p> + “You thought it was!” yelled Simmons. “You’re drivin’ me to it! I tell you + you’re drivin’ me to it! Get up, Losson, an’ don’t lie shammin’ there-you + an’ your blasted parrit that druv me to it!” + </p> + <p> + But there was an unaffected reality about Losson’s pose that showed + Simmons what he had done. The men were still clamoring on the veranda. + Simmons appropriated two more packets of ammunition and ran into the + moonlight, muttering: “I’ll make a night of it. Thirty roun’s, an’ the + last for myself. Take you that, you dogs!” + </p> + <p> + He dropped on one knee and fired into the brown of the men on the veranda, + but the bullet flew high, and landed in the brickwork with a vicious phant + that made some of the younger ones turn pale. It is, as musketry theorists + observe, one thing to fire and another to be fired at. + </p> + <p> + Then the instinct of the chase flared up. The news spread from barrack to + barrack, and the men doubled out intent on the capture of Simmons, the + wild beast, who was heading for the Cavalry parade-ground, stopping now + and again to send back a shot and a Lurse in the direction of his + pursuers. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll learn you to spy on me!” he shouted; “I’ll learn you to give me + dorg’s names! Come on the ‘ole lot O’ you! Colonel John Anthony Deever, + C.B.!”—he turned toward the Infantry Mess and shook his rifle—“you + think yourself the devil of a man—but I tell ‘jou that if you Put + your ugly old carcass outside O’ that door, I’ll make you the + poorest-lookin’ man in the army. Come out, Colonel John Anthony Deever, + C.B.! Come out and see me practiss on the rainge. I’m the crack shot of + the ‘ole bloomin’ battalion.” In proof of which statement Simmons fired at + the lighted windows of the mess-house. + </p> + <p> + “Private Simmons, E Comp’ny, on the Cavalry p’rade-ground, Sir, with + thirty rounds,” said a Sergeant breathlessly to the Colonel. “Shootin’ + right and lef’, Sir. Shot Private Losson. What’s to be done, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel John Anthony Deever, C.B., sallied out, only to be saluted by a + spurt of dust at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Pull up!” said the Second in Command; “I don’t want my step in that way, + Colonel. He’s as dangerous as a mad dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Shoot him like one, then,” said the Colonel, bitterly, “if he won’t take + his chance. My regiment, too! If it had been the Towheads I could have + understood.” + </p> + <p> + Private Simmons had occupied a strong position near a well on the edge of + the parade-ground, and was defying the regiment to come on. The regiment + was not anxious to comply, for there is small honor in being shot by a + fellow-private. Only Corporal Slane, rifle in band, threw himself down on + the ground, and wormed his way toward the well. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t shoot,” said he to the men round him; “like as not you’ll hit me. + I’ll catch the beggar, livin’.” + </p> + <p> + Simmons ceased shouting for a while, and the noise of trap-wheels could be + heard across the plain. Major Oldyne Commanding the Horse Battery, was + coming back from a dinner in the Civil Lines; was driving after his usual + custom—that is to say, as fast as the horse could go. + </p> + <p> + “A orf’cer! A blooming spangled orf’cer,” shrieked Simmons; “I’ll make a + scarecrow of that orf’cer!” The trap stopped. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this?” demanded the Major of Gunners. “You there, drop your + rifle.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s Jerry Blazes! I ain’t got no quarrel with you, Jerry Blazes. + Pass frien’, an’ all’s well!” + </p> + <p> + But Jerry Blazes had not the faintest intention of passing a dangerous + murderer. He was, as his adoring Battery swore long and fervently, without + knowledge of fear, and they were surely the best judges, for Jerry Blazes, + it was notorious, had done his possible to kill a man each time the + Battery went out. + </p> + <p> + He walked toward Simmons, with the intention of rushing him, and knocking + him down. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t make me do it, Sir,” said Simmons; “I ain’t got nothing agin you. + Ah! you would?”—the Major broke into a run—“Take that then!” + </p> + <p> + The Major dropped with a bullet through his shoulder, and Simmons stood + over him. He had lost the satisfaction of killing Losson in the desired + way: hut here was a helpless body to his hand. Should be slip in another + cartridge, and blow off the head, or with the butt smash in the white + face? He stopped to consider, and a cry went up from the far side of the + parade-ground: “He’s killed Jerry Blazes!” But in the shelter of the + well-pillars Simmons was safe except when he stepped out to fire. “I’ll + blow yer ‘andsome ‘ead off, Jerry Blazes,” said Simmons, reflectively. + “Six an’ three is nine an one is ten, an’ that leaves me another nineteen, + an’ one for myself.” He tugged at the string of the second packet of + ammunition. Corporal Slane crawled out of the shadow of a bank into the + moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “I see you!” said Simmons. “Come a bit furder on an’ I’ll do for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m comm’,” said Corporal Slane, briefly; “you’ve done a bad day’s work, + Sim. Come out ‘ere an’ come back with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to,”—laugbed Simmons, sending a cartridge home with his thumb. + “Not before I’ve settled you an’ Jerry Blazes.” + </p> + <p> + The Corporal was lying at full length in the dust of the parade-ground, a + rifle under him. Some of the less-cautious men in the distance shouted: + “Shoot ‘im! Shoot ‘im, Slane!” + </p> + <p> + “You move ‘and or foot, Slane,” said Simmons, “an’ I’ll kick Jerry Blazes’ + ‘ead in, and shoot you after.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain’t movin’,” said the Corporal, raising his head; “you daren’t ‘it a + man on ‘is legs. Let go O’ Jerry Blazes an’ come out O’ that with your + fistes. Come an’ ‘it me. You daren’t, you bloomin’ dog-shooter!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie, you man-sticker. You sneakin’, Sheeny butcher, you lie. See + there!” Slane kicked the rifle away, and stood up in the peril of his + life. “Come on, now!” + </p> + <p> + The temptation was more than Simmons could resist, for the Corporal in his + white clothes offered a perfect mark. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t misname me,” shouted Simmons, firing as he spoke. The shot missed, + and the shooter, blind with rage, threw his rifle down and rushed at Slane + from the protection of the well. Within striking distance, he kicked + savagely at Slane’s stomach, but the weedy Corporal knew something of + Simmons’s weakness, and knew, too, the deadly guard for that kick. Bowing + forward and drawing up his right leg till the heel of the right foot was + set some three inches above the inside of the left knee-cap, he met the + blow standing on one leg—exactly as Gonds stand when they meditate—and + ready for the fall that would follow. There was an oath, the Corporal fell + over his own left as shinbone met shinbone, and the Private collapsed, his + right leg broken an inch above the ankle. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pity you don’t know that guard, Sim,” said Slane, spitting out the dust + as he rose. Then raising his voice—“Come an’ take him orf. I’ve bruk + ‘is leg.” This was not strictly true, for the Private had accomplished his + own downfall, since it is the special merit of that leg-guard that the + harder the kick the greater the kicker’s discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + Slane walked to Jerry Blazes and hung over him with ostentatious anxiety, + while Simmons, weeping with pain, was carried away. “‘Ope you ain’t ‘urt + badly, Sir,” said Slane. The Major had fainted, and there was an ugly, + ragged hole through the top of his arm. Slane knelt down and murmured. + “S’elp me, I believe ‘e’s dead. Well, if that ain’t my blooming luck all + over!” + </p> + <p> + But the Major was destined to lead his Battery afield for many a long day + with unshaken nerve. He was removed, and nursed and petted into + convalescence, while the Battery discussed the wisdom of capturing + Simmons, and blowing him from a gun. They idolized their Major, and his + reappearance on parade brought about a scene nowhere provided for in the + Army Regulations. + </p> + <p> + Great, too, was the glory that fell to Slane’s share. The Gunners would + have made him drunk thrice a day for at least a fortnight. Even the + Colonel of his own regiment complimented him upon his coolness, and the + local paper called him a hero. These things did not puff him up. When the + Major offered him money and thanks, the virtuous Corporal took the one and + put aside the other. But he had a request to make and prefaced it with + many a “Beg y’pardon, Sir.” Could the Major see his way to letting the + Slane M’Kenna wedding be adorned by the presence of four Battery horses to + pull a hired barouche? The Major could, and so could the Battery. + Excessively so. It was a gorgeous wedding. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Wot did I do it for?” said Corporal Slane. “For the ‘orses O’ course. + Jhansi ain’t a beauty to look at, but I wasn’t goin’ to ‘ave a hired + turn-out. Jerry Blazes? If I ‘adn’t ‘a’ wanted something, Sim might ha’ + blowed Jerry Blazes’ blooming ‘ead into Hirish stew for aught I’d ‘a’ + cared.” + </p> + <p> + And they hanged Private Simmons-hanged him as high as Haman in hollow + square of the regiment; and the Colonel said it was Drink; and the + Chaplain was sure it was the Devil; and Simmons fancied it was both, but + he didn’t know, and only hoped his fate would be a warning to his + companions; and half a dozen “intelligent publicists” wrote six beautiful + leading articles on “‘The Prevalence of Crime in the Army.” + </p> + <p> + But not a soul thought of comparing the “bloody-minded Simmons” to the + squawking, gaping schoolgirl with which this story opens. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ENLIGHTENMENTS OF PAGETT, M.P. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Because half a dozen grasshoppers under a fern make the field + ring with their importunate chink while thousands of great cattle, + reposed beneath the shadow of the British oak, chew the cud and + are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make the noise are + the only inhabitants of the field-that, of course, they are many in + number or that, after all, they are other than the little, shrivelled, + meagre, hopping, though loud and troublesome insects of the + hour.” —Burke: “Reflections on the Revolution in France.” + </pre> + <p> + THEY were sitting in the veranda of “the splendid palace of an Indian + Pro-Consul”; surrounded by all the glory and mystery of the immemorial + East. In plain English it was a one-storied, ten-roomed, whitewashed, + mud-roofed bungalow, set in a dry garden of dusty tamarisk trees and + divided from the road by a low mud wall. The green parrots screamed + overhead as they flew in battalions to the river for their morning drink. + Beyond the wall, clouds of fine dust showed where the cattle and goats of + the city were passing afield to graze. The remorseless white light of the + winter sunshine of Northern India lay upon everything and improved + nothing, from the whining Peisian-wheel by the lawn-tennis court to the + long perspective of level road and the blue, domed tombs of Mohammedan + saints just visible above the trees. + </p> + <p> + “A Happy New Year,” said Orde to his guest. “It’s the first you’ve ever + spent out of England, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. ‘Happy New Year,” said Pagett, smiling at the sunshine. “What a + divine climate you have here! Just think of the brown cold fog hanging + over London now!” And he rubbed his hands. + </p> + <p> + It was more than twenty years since he had last seen Orde, his schoolmate, + and their paths in the world had divided early. The one had quitted + college to become a cog-wheel in the machinery of the great Indian + Government; the other more blessed with goods, had been whirled into a + similar position in the English scheme. Three successive elections had not + affected Pagett’s position with a loyal constituency, and he had grown + insensibly to regard himself in some sort as a pillar of the Empire, whose + real worth would be known later on. After a few years of conscientious + attendance at many divisions, after newspaper battles innumerable and the + publication of interminable correspondence, and more hasty oratory than in + his calmer moments he cared to think upon, it occurred to him, as it had + occurred to many of his fellows in Parliament, that a tour to India would + enable him to sweep a larger lyre and address himself to the problems of + Imperial administration with a firmer hand. Accepting, therefore, a + general invitation extended to him by Orde some years before, Pagett had + taken ship to Karachi, and only over-night had been received with joy by + the Deputy-Commissioner of Amara. They had sat late, discussing the + changes and chances of twenty years, recalling the names of the dead, and + weighing the futures of the living, as is the custom of men meeting after + intervals of action. + </p> + <p> + Next morning they smoked the after breakfast pipe in the veranda, still + regarding each other curiously, Pagett, in a light grey frock-coat and + garments much too thin for the time of the year, and a puggried sun-hat + carefully and wonderfully made. Orde in a shooting coat, riding breeches, + brown cowhide boots with spurs, and a battered flax helmet. He had ridden + some miles in the early morning to inspect a doubtful river dam. The men’s + faces differed as much as their attire. Orde’s worn and wrinkled around + the eyes, and grizzled at the temples, was the harder and more square of + the two, and it was with something like envy that the owner looked at the + comfortable outlines of Pagett’s blandly receptive countenance, the clear + skin, the untroubled eye, and the mobile, clean-shaved lips. + </p> + <p> + “And this is India!” said Pagett for the twentieth time staring long and + intently at the grey feathering of the tamarisks. + </p> + <p> + “One portion of India only. It’s very much like this for 300 miles in + every direction. By the way, now that you have rested a little—I + wouldn’t ask the old question before—what d’you think of the + country?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis the most pervasive country that ever yet was seen. I acquired + several pounds of your country coming up from Karachi. The air is heavy + with it, and for miles and miles along that distressful eternity of rail + there’s no horizon to show where air and earth separate.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It isn’t easy to see truly or far in India. But you had a decent + passage out, hadn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Very good on the whole. Your Anglo-Indian may be unsympathetic about + one’s political views; but he has reduced ship life to a science.” + </p> + <p> + “The Anglo-Indian is a political orphan, and if he’s wise he won’t be in a + hurry to be adopted by your party grandmothers. But how were your + companions, unsympathetic?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was a man called Dawlishe, a judge somewhere in this country + it seems, and a capital partner at whist by the way, and when I wanted to + talk to him about the progress of India in a political sense (Orde hid a + grin, which might or might not have been sympathetic), the National + Congress movement, and other things in which, as a Member of Parliament, + I’m of course interested, he shifted the subject, and when I once cornered + him, he looked me calmly in the eye, and said: ‘That’s all Tommy rot. Come + and have a game at Bull.’ You may laugh; but that isn’t the way to treat a + great and important question; and, knowing who I was. well. I thought it + rather rude, don’t you know; and yet Dawlishe is a thoroughly good + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he’s a friend of mine, and one of the straightest men I know. I + suppose, like many Anglo-Indians, he felt it was hopeless to give you any + just idea of any Indian question without the documents before you, and in + this case the documents you want are the country and the people.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. That was why I came straight to you, bringing an open mind to + bear on things. I’m anxious to know what popular feeling in India is + really like y’know, now that it has wakened into political life. The + National Congress, in spite of Dawlishe, must have caused great excitement + among the masses?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, nothing could be more tranquil than the state of popular + feeling; and as to excitement, the people would as soon be excited over + the ‘Rule of Three’ as over the Congress.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Orde, but do you think you are a fair judge? Isn’t the + official Anglo-Indian naturally jealous of any external influences that + might move the masses, and so much opposed to liberal ideas, truly liberal + ideas, that he can scarcely be expected to regard a popular movement with + fairness?” + </p> + <p> + “What did Dawlishe say about Tommy Rot? Think a moment, old man. You and I + were brought up together; taught by the same tutors, read the same books, + lived the same life, and new languages, and work among new races; while + you, more fortunate, remain at home. Why should I change my mind our + mind-because I change my sky? Why should I and the few hundred Englishmen + in my service become unreasonable, prejudiced fossils, while you and your + newer friends alone remain bright and open-minded? You surely don’t fancy + civilians are members of a Primrose League?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not, but the mere position of an English official gives him a + point of view which cannot but bias his mind on this question.” Pagett + moved his knee up and down a little uneasily as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “That sounds plausible enough, but, like more plausible notions on Indian + matters, I believe it’s a mistake. You’ll find when you come to consult + the unofficial Briton that our fault, as a class—I speak of the + civilian now-is rather to magnify the progress that has been made toward + liberal institutions. It is of English origin, such as it is, and the + stress of our work since the Mutiny—only thirty years ago—has + been in that direction. No, I think you will get no fairer or more + dispassionate view of the Congress business than such men as I can give + you. But I may as well say at once that those who know most of India, from + the inside, are inclined to wonder at the noise our scarcely begun + experiment makes in England.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely the gathering together of Congress delegates is of itself a + new thing.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing new under the sun When Europe was a jungle half Asia + flocked to the canonical conferences of Buddhism; and for centuries the + people have gathered at Pun, Hurdwar, Trimbak, and Benares in immense + numbers. A great meeting, what you call a mass meeting, is really one of + the oldest and most popular of Indian institutions In the case of the + Congress meetings, the only notable fact is that the priests of the altar + are British, not Buddhist, Jam or Brahmanical, and that the whole thing is + a British contrivance kept alive by the efforts of Messrs. Hume, Eardley, + Norton, and Digby.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say, then, it s not a spontaneous movement?” + </p> + <p> + “What movement was ever spontaneous in any true sense of the word? This + seems to be more factitious than usual. You seem to know a great deal + about it; try it by the touchstone of subscriptions, a coarse but fairly + trustworthy criterion, and there is scarcely the color of money in it. The + delegates write from England that they are out of pocket for working + expenses, railway fares, and stationery—the mere pasteboard and + scaffolding of their show. It is, in fact, collapsing from mere financial + inanition.” + </p> + <p> + “But you cannot deny that the people of India, who are, perhaps, too poor + to subscribe, are mentally and morally moved by the agitation,” Pagett + insisted. + </p> + <p> + “That is precisely what I do deny. The native side of the movement is the + work of a limited class, a microscopic minority, as Lord Dufferin + described it, when compared with the people proper, but still a very + interesting class, seeing that it is of our own creation. It is composed + almost entirely of those of the literary or clerkly castes who have + received an English education.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely that s a very important class. Its members must be the ordained + leaders of popular thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere else they might be leaders, but they have no social weight in + this topsy-turvy land, and though they have been employed in clerical work + for generations they have no practical knowledge of affairs. A ship’s + clerk is a useful person, but he is scarcely the captain; and an + orderly-room writer, however smart he may be, is not the colonel. You see, + the writer class in India has never till now aspired to anything like + command. It wasn’t allowed to. The Indian gentleman, for thousands of + years past, has resembled Victor Hugo’s noble: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Un vrai sire + Chatelain + Laisse ecrire + Le vilain. + Sa main digne + Quand il signe + Egratigne + Le velin. +</pre> + <p> + And the little egralignures he most likes to make have been scored pretty + deeply by the sword.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is childish and medheval nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely; and from your, or rather our, point of view the pen is + mightier than the sword. In this country it’s otherwise. The fault lies in + our Indian balances, not yet adjusted to civilized weights and measures.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at all events, this literary class represent the natural + aspirations and wishes of the people at large, though it may not exactly + lead them, and, in spite of all you say, Orde, I defy you to find a really + sound English Radical who would not sympathize with those aspirations.” + </p> + <p> + Pagett spoke with some warmth, and he had scarcely ceased when a well + appointed dog-cart turned into the compound gates, and Orde rose saying: + </p> + <p> + “Here is Edwards, the Master of the Lodge I neglect so diligently, come to + talk about accounts, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + As the vehicle drove up under the porch Pagett also rose, saying with the + trained effusion born of much practice: + </p> + <p> + “But this is also my friend, my old and valued friend Edwards. I’m + delighted to see you. I knew you were in India, but not exactly where.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it isn’t accounts, Mr. Edwards,” said Orde, cheerily. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, sir; I heard Mr. Pagett was coming, and as our works were closed + for the New Year I thought I would drive over and see him.” + </p> + <p> + “A very happy thought. Mr. Edwards, you may not know, Orde, was a leading + member of our Radical Club at Switebton when I was beginning political + life, and I owe much to his exertions. There’s no pleasure like meeting an + old friend, except, perhaps, making a new one. I suppose, Mr. Edwards, you + stick to the good old cause?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, sir, things are different out here. There’s precious + little one can find to say against the Government, which was the main of + our talk at home, and them that do say things are not the sort o’ people a + man who respects himself would like to be mixed up with. There are no + politics, in a manner of speaking, in India. It’s all work.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you are mistaken, my good friend. Why I have come all the way from + England just to see the working of this great National movement.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know where you’re going to find the nation as moves to begin + with, and then you’ll be hard put to it to find what they are moving + about. It’s like this, sir,” said Edwards, who had not quite relished + being called “my good friend.” “They haven’t got any grievance—nothing + to hit with, don’t you see, sir; and then there’s not much to hit against, + because the Government is more like a kind of general Providence, + directing an old—established state of things, than that at home, + where there’s something new thrown down for us to fight about every three + months.” + </p> + <p> + “You are probably, in your workshops, full of English mechanics, out of + the way of learning what the masses think.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know so much about that. There are four of us English foremen, + and between seven and eight hundred native fitters, smiths, carpenters, + painters, and such like.” + </p> + <p> + “And they are full of the Congress, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Never hear a word of it from year’s end to year’s end, and I speak the + talk too. But I wanted to ask how things are going on at home—old + Tyler and Brown and the rest?” + </p> + <p> + “We will speak of them presently, but your account of the indifference of + your men surprises me almost as much as your own. I fear you are a + backslider from the good old doctrine, Ed wards.” Pagett spoke as one who + mourned the death of a near relative. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit, Sir, but I should be if I took up with a parcel of baboos, + pleaders, and schoolboys, as never did a day’s work in their lives, and + couldn’t if they tried. And if you was to poll us English railway men, + mechanics, tradespeople, and the like of that all up and down the country + from Peshawur to Calcutta, you would find us mostly in a tale together. + And yet you know we’re the same English you pay some respect to at home at + ‘lection time, and we have the pull o’ knowing something about it.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very curious, but you will let me come and see you, and perhaps + you will kindly show me the railway works, and we will talk things over at + leisure. And about all old friends and old times,” added Pagett, detecting + with quick insight a look of disappointment in the mechanic’s face. + </p> + <p> + Nodding briefly to Orde, Edwards mounted his dog-cart and drove off. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very disappointing,” said the Member to Orde, who, while his friend + discoursed with Edwards, had been looking over a bundle of sketches drawn + on grey paper in purple ink, brought to him by a Chuprassee. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let it trouble you, old chap,” ‘said Orde, sympathetically. “Look + here a moment, here are some sketches by the man who made the carved wood + screen you admired so much in the dining-room, and wanted a copy of, and + the artist himself is here too.” + </p> + <p> + “A native?” said Pagett. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” was the reply, “Bishen Siagh is his name, and he has two + brothers to help him. When there is an important job to do, the three go + ‘ato partnership, but they spend most of their time and all their money in + litigation over an inheritance, and I’m afraid they are getting involved, + Thoroughbred Sikhs of the old rock, obstinate, touchy, bigoted, and + cunning, but good men for all that. Here is Bishen Singn—shall we + ask him about the Congress?” + </p> + <p> + But Bishen Singh, who approached with a respectful salaam, had never heard + of it, and he listened with a puzzled face and obviously feigned interest + to Orde’s account of its aims and objects, finally shaking his vast white + turban with great significance when he learned that it was promoted by + certain pleaders named by Orde, and by educated natives. He began with + labored respect to explain how he was a poor man with no concern in such + matters, which were all under the control of God, but presently broke out + of Urdu into familiar Punjabi, the mere sound of which had a rustic smack + of village smoke-reek and plough-tail, as he denounced the wearers of + white coats, the jugglers with words who filched his field from him, the + men whose backs were never bowed in honest work; and poured ironical scorn + on the Bengali. He and one of his brothers had seen Calcutta, and being at + work there had Bengali carpenters given to them as assistants. + </p> + <p> + “Those carpenters!” said Bishen Singh. “Black apes were more efficient + workmates, and as for the Bengali babu-tchick!” The guttural click needed + no interpretation, but Orde translated the rest, while Pagett gazed with + in.. terest at the wood-carver. + </p> + <p> + “He seems to have a most illiberal prejudice against the Bengali,” said + the M.P. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s very sad that for ages outside Bengal there should be so bitter + a prejudice. Pride of race, which also means race-hatred, is the plague + and curse of India and it spreads far,” pointed with his riding-whip to + the large map of India on the veranda wall. + </p> + <p> + “See! I begin with the North,” said he. “There’s the Afghan, and, as a + highlander, he despises all the dwellers in Hindoostan-with the exception + of the Sikh, whom he hates as cordially as the Sikh hates him. The Hindu + loathes Sikh and Afghan, and the Rajput—that’s a little lower down + across this yellow blot of desert—has a strong objection, to put it + mildly, to the Maratha who, by the way, poisonously hates the Afghan. + Let’s go North a minute. The Sindhi hates everybody I’ve mentioned. Very + good, we’ll take less warlike races. The cultivator of Northern India + domineers over the man in the next province, and the Behari of the + Northwest ridicules the Bengali. They are all at one on that point. I’m + giving you merely the roughest possible outlines of the facts, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Bishen Singh, his clean cut nostrils still quivering, watched the large + sweep of the whip as it traveled from the frontier, through Sindh, the + Punjab and Rajputana, till it rested by the valley of the Jumna. + </p> + <p> + “Hate—eternal and inextinguishable hate,” concluded Orde, flicking + the lash of the whip across the large map from East to West as he sat + down. “Remember Canning’s advice to Lord Granville, ‘Never write or speak + of Indian things without looking at a map.’” + </p> + <p> + Pagett opened his eyes, Orde resumed. “And the race-hatred is only a part + of it. What’s really the matter with Bisben Singh is class-hatred, which, + unfortunately, is even more intense and more widely spread. That’s one of + the little drawbacks of caste, which some of your recent English writers + find an impeccable system.” + </p> + <p> + The wood-carver was glad to be recalled to the business of his craft, and + his eyes shone as he received instructions for a carved wooden doorway for + Pagett, which he promised should be splendidly executed and despatched to + England in six months. It is an irrelevant detail, but in spite of Orde’s + reminders, fourteen months elapsed before the work was finished. Business + over, Bishen Singh hung about, reluctant to take his leave, and at last + joining his hands and approaching Orde with bated breath and whispering + humbleness, said he had a petition to make. Orde’s face suddenly lost all + trace of expression. “Speak on, Bishen Singh,” said he, and the carver in + a whining tone explained that his case against his brothers was fixed for + hearing before a native judge and—here he dropped his voice still + lower till he was summarily stopped by Orde, who sternly pointed to the + gate with an emphatic Begone! + </p> + <p> + Bishen Singh, showing but little sign of discomposure, salaamed + respectfully to the friends and departed. + </p> + <p> + Pagett looked inquiry; Orde with complete recovery of his usual urbanity, + replied: “It’s nothing, only the old story, he wants his case to be tried + by an English judge-they all do that-but when he began to hint that the + other side were in improper relations with the native judge I had to shut + him up. Gunga Ram, the man he wanted to make insinuations about, may not + be very bright; but he’s as honest as day-light on the bench. But that’s + just what one can’t get a native to believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean to say these people prefer to have their cases tried + by English judges?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + Pagett drew a long breath. “I didn’t know that before.” At this point a + phaeton entered the compound, and Orde rose with “Confound it, there’s old + Rasul Ah Khan come to pay one of his tiresome duty calls. I’m afraid we + shall never get through our little Congress discussion.” + </p> + <p> + Pagett was an almost silent spectator of the grave formalities of a visit + paid by a punctilious old Mahommedan gentleman to an Indian official; and + was much impressed by the distinction of manner and fine appearance of the + Mohammedan landholder. When the exchange of polite banalities came to a + pause, he expressed a wish to learn the courtly visitor’s opinion of the + National Congress. + </p> + <p> + Orde reluctantly interpreted, and with a smile which even Mohammedan + politeness could not save from bitter scorn, Rasul Ah Khan intimated that + he knew nothing about it and cared still less. It was a kind of talk + encouraged by the Government for some mysterious purpose of its own, and + for his own part he wondered and held his peace. + </p> + <p> + Pagett was far from satisfied with this, and wished to have the old + gentleman’s opinion on the propriety of managing all Indian affairs on the + basis of an elective system. + </p> + <p> + Orde did his best to explain, but it was plain the visitor was bored and + bewildered. Frankly, he didn’t think much of committees; they had a + Municipal Committee at Lahore and had elected a menial servant, an + orderly, as a member. He had been informed of this on good authority, and + after that, committees had ceased to interest him. But all was according + to the rule of Government, and, please God, it was all for the best. + </p> + <p> + “What an old fossil it is!” cried Pagett, as Orde returned from seeing his + guest to the door; “just like some old blue-blooded hidalgo of Spain. What + does he really think of the Congress after all, and of the elective + system?” + </p> + <p> + “Hates it all like poison. When you are sure of a majority, election is a + fine system; but you can scarcely expect the Mahommedans, the most + masterful and powerful minority in the country, to contemplate their own + extinction with joy. The worst of it is that he and his co-religionists, + who are many, and the landed proprietors, also, of Hindu race, are + frightened and put out by this election business and by the importance we + have bestowed on lawyers, pleaders, writers, and the like, who have, up to + now, been in abject submission to them. They say little, hut after all + they are the most important fagots in the great bundle of communities, and + all the glib bunkum in the world would not pay for their estrangement. + They have controlled the land.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am assured that experience of local self-government in your + municipalities has been most satisfactory, and when once the principle is + accepted in your centres, don’t you know, it is bound to spread, and these + important—ah’m people of yours would learn it like the rest. I see + no difficulty at all,” and the smooth lips closed with the complacent snap + habitual to Pagett, M.P., the “man of cheerful yesterdays and confident + to-morrows.” + </p> + <p> + Orde looked at him with a dreary smile. + </p> + <p> + “The privilege of election has been most reluctantly withdrawn from scores + of municipalities, others have had to be summarily suppressed, and, + outside the Presidency towns, the actual work done has been badly + performed. This is of less moment, perhaps-it only sends up the local + death-rates-than the fact that the public interest in municipal elections, + never very strong, has waned, and is waning, in spite of careful nursing + on the part of Government servants.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you explain this lack of interest?” said Pagett, putting aside the + rest of Orde’s remarks. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“You may find a ward of the key in the fact that only one in every +thousand af our population can spell. Then they are infinitely more +interested in religion and caste questions than in any sort of politics. +When the business of mere existence is over, their minds are occupied by +a series of interests, pleasures, rituals, superstitions, and the like, +based on centuries of tradition and usage. You, perhaps, find it hard to +conceive of people absolutely devoid of curiosity, to whom the book, the +daily paper, and the printed speech are unknown, and you would describe +their life as blank. That’s a profound mistake. You are in another +land, another century, down on the bed-rock of society, where the family +merely, and not the community, is all-important. The average Oriental +cannot be brought to look beyond his clan. His life, too, is naore +complete and self-sufficing, and less sordid and low-thoughted than you +might imagine. It is bovine and slow in some respects, but it is never +empty. You and I are inclined to put the cart before the horse, and to +forget that it is the man that is elemental, not the book. + + ‘The corn and the cattle are all my care, + And the rest is the will of God.’ +</pre> + <p> + Why should such folk look up from their immemorially appointed round of + duty and interests to meddle with the unknown and fuss with voting-papers. + How would you, atop of all your interests care to conduct even one-tenth + of your life according to the manners and customs of the Papuans, let’s + say? That’s what it comes to.” + </p> + <p> + “But if they won’t take the trouble to vote, why do you anticipate that + Mohammedans, proprietors, and the rest would be crushed by majorities of + them?” + </p> + <p> + Again Pagett disregarded the closing sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Because, though the landholders would not move a finger on any purely + political question, they could be raised in dangerous excitement by + religious hatreds. Already the first note of this has been sounded by the + people who are trying to get up an agitation on the cow-killing question, + and every year there is trouble over the Mohammedan Muharrum processions. + </p> + <p> + “But who looks after the popular rights, being thus unrepresented?” + </p> + <p> + “The Government of Her Majesty the Queen, Empress of India, in which, if + the Congress promoters are to be believed, the people have an implicit + trust; for the Congress circular, specially prepared for rustic + comprehension, says the movement is ‘for the remission of tax, the + advancement of Hindustan, and the strengthening of the British + Government.’ This paper is headed in large letters— + </p> + <p> + ‘MAY THE PROSPERITY OF THE EMPIRE OF INDIA ENDURE.’” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” said Pagett, “that shows some cleverness. But there are things + better worth imitation in our English methods of—er—political + statement than this sort of amiable fraud.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow,” resumed Orde, “you perceive that not a word is said about + elections and the elective principle, and the reticence of the Congress + promoters here shows they are wise in their generation.” + </p> + <p> + “But the elective principle must triumph in the end, and the little + difficulties you seem to anticipate would give way on the introduction of + a well-balanced scheme, capable of indefinite extension.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it possible to devise a scheme which, always assuming that the + people took any interest in it, without enormous expense, ruinous + dislocation of the administation and danger to the public peace, can + satisfy the aspirations of Mr. Hume and his following, and yet safeguard + the interests of the Mahommedans, the landed and wealthy classes, the + Conservative Hindus, the Eurasians, Parsees, Sikhs, Rajputs, native + Christians, domiciled Europeans and others, who are each important and + powerful in their way?” + </p> + <p> + Pagett’s attention, however, was diverted to the gate, where a group of + cultivators stood in apparent hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Here are the twelve Apostles, by Jove—come straight out of + Raffaele’s cartoons,” said the M.P., with the fresh appreciation of a + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + Orde, loth to be interrupted, turned impatiently toward the villagers, and + their leader, handing his long staff to one of his companions, advanced to + the house. + </p> + <p> + “It is old Jelbo, the Lumherdar, or head-man of Pind Sharkot, and a very’ + intelligent man for a villager.” + </p> + <p> + The Jat farmer had removed his shoes and stood smiling on the edge of the + veranda. His strongly marked features glowed with russet bronze, and his + bright eyes gleamed under deeply set brows, contracted by lifelong + exposure to sunshine. His beard and moustache streaked with grey swept + from bold cliffs of brow and cheek in the large sweeps one sees drawn by + Michael Angelo, and strands of long black hair mingled with the + irregularly piled wreaths and folds of his turban. The drapery of stout + blue cotton cloth thrown over his broad shoulders and girt round his + narrow loins, hung from his tall form in broadly sculptured folds, and he + would have made a superb model for an artist in search of a patriarch. + </p> + <p> + Orde greeted him cordially, and after a polite pause the countryman + started off with a long story told with impressive earnestness. Orde + listened and smiled, interrupting the speaker at ‘times to argue and + reason with him in a tone which Pagett could hear was kindly, and finally + checking the flux of words was about to dismiss him, when Pagett suggested + that he should be asked about the National Congress. + </p> + <p> + But Jelloc had never heard of it. He was a poor man and such things, by + the favor of his Honor, did not concern him. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with your big friend that he was so terribly in + earnest?” asked Pagett, when he had left. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing much. He wants the blood of the people in the next village, who + have had smallpox and cattle plague pretty badly, and by the help of a + wizard, a currier, and several pigs have passed it on to his own village. + ‘Wants to know if they can’t be run in for this awful crime. It seems they + made a dreadful charivari at the village boundary, threw a quantity of + spell-bearing objects over the border, a buffalo’s skull and other things; + then branded a chamur—what you would call a currier—on his + hinder parts and drove him and a number of pigs over into Jelbo’s village. + Jelbo says he can bring evidence to prove that the wizard directing these + proceedings, who is a Sansi, has been guilty of theft, arson, + cattle-killing, perjury and murder, but would prefer to have him punished + for bewitching them and inflicting small-pox.” + </p> + <p> + “And how on earth did you answer such a lunatic?” + </p> + <p> + “Lunatic I the old fellow is as sane as you or I; and he has some ground + of complaint against those Sansis. I asked if he would like a native + superintendent of police with some men to make inquiries, but he objected + on the grounds the police were rather worse than smallpox and criminal + tribes put together.” + </p> + <p> + “Criminal tribes—er—I don’t quite understand,” said Paget. + </p> + <p> + “We have in India many tribes of people who in the slack anti-British days + became robbers, in various kind, and preyed on the people. They are being + restrained and reclaimed little by little, and in time will become useful + citizens, but they still cherish hereditary traditions of crime, and are a + difficult lot to deal with. By the way what; about the political rights of + these folk under your schemes? The country people call them vermin, but I + sup-pose they would be electors with the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense—special provision would be made for them in a + well-considered electoral scheme, and they would doubtless be treated with + fitting severity,” said Pagett, with a magisterial air. + </p> + <p> + “Severity, yes—but whether it would be fitting is doubtful. Even + those poor devils have rights, and, after all, they only practice what + they have been taught.” + </p> + <p> + “But criminals, Orde!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, criminals with codes and rituals of crime, gods and godlings of + crime, and a hundred songs and sayings in praise of it. Puzzling, isn’t + it?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s simply dreadful. They ought to be put down at once. Are there many + of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Not more than about sixty thousand in this province, for many of the + tribes broadly described as criminal are really vagabond and criminal only + on occasion, while others are being settled and reclaimed. They are of + great antiquity, a legacy from the past, the golden, glorious Aryan past + of Max Muller, Birdwood and the rest of your spindrift philosophers.” + </p> + <p> + An orderly brought a card to Orde who took it with a movement of + irritation at the interruption, and banded it to Pagett; a large card with + a ruled border in red ink, and in the centre in schoolboy copper plate, + Mr. Dma Nath. “Give salaam,” said the civilian, and there entered in haste + a slender youth, clad in a closely fitting coat of grey homespun, tight + trousers, patent-leather shoes, and a small black velvet cap. His thin + cheek twitched, and his eyes wandered restlessly, for the young man was + evidently nervous and uncomfortable, though striving to assume a free and + easy air. + </p> + <p> + “Your honor may perhaps remember me,” he said in English, and Orde scanned + him keenly. + </p> + <p> + “I know your face somehow. You belonged to the Shershah district I think, + when I was in charge there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir, my father is writer at Shershah, and your honor gave me a prize + when I was first in the Middle School examination five years ago. Since + then I have prosecuted my studies, and I am now second year’s student in + the Mission College.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course: you are Kedar Nath’s son—the boy who said he liked + geography better than play or sugar cakes, and I didn’t believe you. How + is your father getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “He is well, and he sends his salaam, but his circumstances are depressed, + and he also is down on his luck.” + </p> + <p> + “You learn English idiom at the Mission College, it seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, they are the best idioms, and my father ordered me to ask your + honor to say a word for him to the present incumbent of your honor’s + shoes, the latchet of which he is not worthy to open, and who knows not + Joseph; for things are different at Sher shah now, and my father wants + promotion.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father is a good man, and I will do what I can for him.” + </p> + <p> + At this point a telegram was handed to Orde, who, after glancing at it, + said he must leave his young friend whom he introduced to Pagett, “a + member of the English House of Commons who wishes to learn about India.” + </p> + <p> + Orde bad scarcely retired with his telegram when Pagett began: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you can tell me something of the National Congress movement?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, it is the greatest movement of modern times, and one in which all + educated men like us must join. All our students are for the Congress.” + </p> + <p> + “Excepting, I suppose, Mahommedans, and the Christians?” said Pagett, + quick to use his recent instruction. + </p> + <p> + “These are some mere exceptions to the universal rule.” + </p> + <p> + “But the people outside the College, the working classes, the + agriculturists; your father and mother, for instance.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” said the young man, with a visible effort to bring himself to + pronounce the word, “has no ideas, and my father is not agriculturist, nor + working class; he is of the Kayeth caste; but he had not the advantage of + a collegiate education, and he does not know much of the Congress. It is a + movement for the educated young-man” -connecting adjective and noun in a + sort of vocal hyphen. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” said Pagett, feeling he was a little off the rails, “and what + are the benefits you expect to gain by it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, everything. England owes its greatness to Parliamentary + institutions, and we should at once gain the same high position in scale + of nations. Sir, we wish to have the sciences, the arts, the manufactures, + the industrial factories, with steam engines, and other motive powers and + public meetings, and debates. Already we have a debating club in + connection with the college, and elect a Mr. Speaker. Sir, the progress + must come. You also are a Member of Parliament and worship the great Lord + Ripon,” said the youth, breathlessly, and his black eyes flashed as he + finished his commaless sentences. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Pagett, drily, “it has not yet occurred to me to worship his + Lordship, although I believe he is a very worthy man, and I am not sure + that England owes quite all the things you name to the House of Commons. + You see, my young friend, the growth of a nation like ours is slow, + subject to many influences, and if you have read your history aright”—“Sir. + I know it all—all! Norman Conquest, Magna Charta, Runnymede, + Reformation, Tudors, Stuarts, Mr. Milton and Mr. Burke, and I have read + something of Mr. Herbert Spencer and Gibbon’s ‘Decline and Fall,’ + Reynolds’ Mysteries of the Court,’” and Pagett felt like one who had + pulled the string of a shower-bath unawares, and hastened to stop the + torrent with a question as to what particular grievances of the people of + India the attention of an elected assembly should be first directed. But + young Mr. Dma Nath was slow to particularize. There were many, very many + demanding consideration. Mr. Pagett would like to hear of one or two + typical examples. The Repeal of the Arms Act was at last named, and the + student learned for the first time that a license was necessary before an + Englishman could carry a gun in England. Then natives of India ought to be + allowed to become Volunteer Riflemen if they chose, and the absolute + equality of the Oriental with his European fellow-subject in civil status + should be proclaimed on principle, and the Indian Army should be + considerably reduced. The student was not, however, prepared with answers + to Mr. Pagett’s mildest questions on these points, and he returned to + vague generalities, leaving the M.P. so much impressed with the crudity of + his views that he was glad on Orde’s return to say good-bye to his ‘very + interesting’ young friend. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of young India?” asked Orde. + </p> + <p> + “Curious, very curious-and callow.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” the civilian replied, “one can scarcely help sympathizing with + him for his mere youth’s sake. The young orators of the Oxford Union + arrived at the same conclusions and showed doubtless just the same + enthusiasm. If there were any political analogy between India and England, + if the thousand races of this Empire were one, if there were any chance + even of their learning to speak one language, if, in short, India were a + Utopia of the debating-room, and not a real land, this kind of talk might + be worth listening to, but it is all based on false analogy and ignorance + of the facts.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is a native and knows the facts.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a sort of English schoolboy, but married three years, and the + father of two weaklings, and knows less than most English schoolboys. You + saw all he is and knows, and such ideas as he has acquired are directly + hostile to the most cherished convictions of the vast majority of the + people.” + </p> + <p> + “But what does he mean by saying he is a student of a mission college? Is + he a Christian?” + </p> + <p> + “He meant just what he said, and he is not a Christian, nor ever will he + be. Good people in America, Scotland and England, most of whom would never + dream of collegiate education for their own sons, are pinching themselves + to bestow it in pure waste on Indian youths. Their scheme is an oblique, + subterranean attack on heathenism; the theory being that with the jam of + secular education, leading to a University degree, the pill of moral or + religious instruction may he coaxed down the heathen gullet.” + </p> + <p> + “But does it succeed; do they make converts?” + </p> + <p> + “They make no converts, for the subtle Oriental swallows the jam and + rejects the pill; but the mere example of the sober, righteous, and godly + lives of the principals and professors who are most excellent and devoted + men, must have a certain moral value. Yet, as Lord Lansdowne pointed out + the other day, the market is dangerously overstocked with graduates of our + Universities who look for employment in the administration. An immense + number are employed, but year by year the college mills grind out + increasing lists of youths foredoomed to failure and disappointment, and + meanwhile, trade, manufactures, and the industrial arts are neglected, and + in fact regarded with contempt by our new literary mandarins in posse.” + </p> + <p> + “But our young friend said he wanted steam-engines and factories,” said + Pagett. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he would like to direct such concerns. He wants to begin at the top, + for manual labor is held to be discreditable, and he would never defile + his hands by the apprenticeship which the architects, engineers, and + manufacturers of England cheerfully undergo; and he would be aghast to + learn that the leading names of industrial enterprise in England belonged + a generation or two since, or now belong, to men who wrought with their + own hands. And, though he talks glibly of manufacturers, he refuses to see + that the Indian manufacturer of the future will be the despised workman of + the present. It was proposed, for example, a few weeks ago, that a certain + municipality in this province should establish an elementary technical + school for the sons of workmen. The stress of the opposition to the plan + came from a pleader who owed all he had to a college education bestowed on + him gratis by Government and missions. You would have fancied some fine + old crusted Tory squire of the last generation was speaking. ‘These + people,’ he said, ‘want no education, for they learn their trades from + their fathers, and to teach a workman’s son the elements of mathematics + and physical science would give him ideas above his business. They must be + kept in their place, and it was idle to imagine that there was any science + in wood or iron work.’ And he carried his point. But the Indian workman + will rise in the social scale in spite of the new literary caste.” + </p> + <p> + “In England we have scarcely begun to realize that there is an industrial + class in this country, yet, I suppose, the example of men, like Edwards + for instance, must tell,” said Pagett, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “That you shouldn’t know much about it is natural enough, for there are + but few sources of information. India in this, as in other respects, is + like a badly kept ledger-not written up to date. And men like Edwards are, + in reality, missionaries, who by precept and example are teaching more + lessons than they know. Only a few, however, of their crowds of + subordinates seem to care to try to emulate them, and aim at individual + advancement; the rest drop into the ancient Indian caste groove.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” asked he, “Well, it is found that the new railway and + factory workmen, the fitter, the smith, the engine-driver, and the rest + are already forming separate hereditary castes. You may notice this down + at Jamalpur in Bengal, one of the oldest railway centres; and at other + places, and in other industries, they are following the same inexorable + Indian law.” + </p> + <p> + “Which means?” queried Pagett. + </p> + <p> + “It means that the rooted habit of the people is to gather in small + self-contained, self-sufficing family groups with no thought or care for + any interests but their own-a habit which is scarcely compatible with the + right acceptation of the elective principle.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you must admit, Orde, that though our young friend was not able to + expound the faith that is in him, your Indian army is too big.” + </p> + <p> + “Not nearly big enough for its main purpose. And, as a side issue, there + are certain powerful minorities of fighting folk whose interests an + Asiatic Government is bound to consider. Arms is as much a means of + livelihood as civil employ under Government and law. And it would be a + heavy strain on British bayonets to hold down Sikhs, Jats, Bilochis, + Rohillas, Rajputs, Bhils, Dogras, Pahtans, and Gurkbas to abide by the + decisions of a numerical majority opposed to their interests. Leave the + ‘numerical majority’ to itself without the British bayonets-a flock of + sheep might as reasonably hope to manage a troop of collies.” + </p> + <p> + “This complaint about excessive growth of the army is akin to another + contention of the Congress party. They protest against the malversation of + the whole of the moneys raised by additional taxes as a Famine Insurance + Fund to other purposes. You must be aware that this special Famine Fund + has all been spent on frontier roads and defences and strategic railway + schemes as a protection against Russia.” + </p> + <p> + “But there was never a special famine fund raised by special taxation and + put by as in a box. No sane administrator would dream of such a thing. In + a time of prosperity a finance minister, rejoicing in a margin, proposed + to annually apply a million and a half to the construction of railways and + canals for the protection of districts liable to scarcity, and to the + reduction of the annual loans for public works. But times were not always + prosperous, and the finance minister had to choose whether he would bang + up the insurance scheme for a year or impose fresh taxation. When a farmer + hasn’t got the little surplus he hoped to have for buying a new wagon and + draining a low-lying field corner, you don’t accuse him of malversation, + if he spends what he has on the necessary work of the rest of his farm.” + </p> + <p> + A clatter of hoofs was heard, and Orde looked up with vexation, but his + brow cleared as a horseman halted under the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Hellin Orde! just looked in to ask if you are coming to polo on Tuesday: + we want you badly to help to crumple up the Krab Bokbar team.” + </p> + <p> + Orde explained that he had to go out into the District, and while the + visitor complained that though good men wouldn’t play, duffers were always + keen, and that his side would probably be beaten, Pagett rose to look at + his mount, a red, lathered Biloch mare, with a curious lyre-like incurving + of the ears. “Quite a little thoroughbred in all other respects,” said the + M.P., and Orde presented Mr. Reginald Burke, Manager of the Siad and + Sialkote Bank to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she’s as good as they make ‘em, and she’s all the female I possess + and spoiled in consequence, aren’t you, old girl?” said Burke, patting the + mare’s glossy neck as she backed and plunged. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pagett,” said Orde, “has been asking me about the Congress. What is + your opinion?” Burke turned to the M. P. with a frank smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it’s all the same to you, sir, I should say, Damn the Congress, + but then I’m no politician, but only a business man.” + </p> + <p> + “You find it a tiresome subject?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s all that, and worse than that, for this kind of agitation is + anything but wholesome for the country.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be a long job to explain, and Sara here won’t stand, but you + know how sensitive capital is, and how timid investors are. All this sort + of rot is likely to frighten them, and we can’t afford to frighten them. + The passengers aboard an Ocean steamer don’t feel reassured when the + ship’s way is stopped, and they hear the workmen’s hammers tinkering at + the engines down below. The old Ark’s going on all right as she is, and + only wants quiet and room to move. Them’s my sentiments, and those of some + other people who have to do with money and business.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are a thick-and-thin supporter of the Government as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no! The Indian Government is much too timid with its money-like an + old maiden aunt of mine-always in a funk about her investments. They don’t + spend half enough on railways for instance, and they are slow in a general + way, and ought to be made to sit up in all that concerns the encouragement + of private enterprise, and coaxing out into use the millions of capital + that lie dormant in the country.” + </p> + <p> + The mare was dancing with impatience, and Burke was evidently anxious to + be off, so the men wished him good-bye. + </p> + <p> + “Who is your genial friend who condemns both Congress and Government in a + breath?” asked Pagett, with an amused smile. + </p> + <p> + “Just now he is Reggie Burke, keener on polo than on anything else, but if + you go to the Sind and Sialkote Bank to-morrow you would find Mr. Reginald + Burke a very capable man of business, known and liked by an immense + constituency North and South of this.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he is right about the Government’s want of enterprise?” + </p> + <p> + “I should hesitate to say. Better consult the merchants and chambers of + commerce in Cawnpore, Madras, Bombay, and Calcutta. But though these + bodies would like, as Reggie puts it, to make Government sit up, it is an + elementary consideration in governing a country like India, which must be + administered for the benefit of the people at large, that the counsels of + those who resort to it for the sake of making money should be judiciously + weighed and not allowed to overpower the rest. They are welcome guests + here, as a matter of course, but it has been found best to restrain their + influence. Thus the rights of plantation laborers, factory operatives, and + the like, have been protected, and the capitalist, eager to get on, has + not always regarded Government action with favor. It is quite conceivable + that under an elective system the commercial communities of the great + towns might find means to secure majorities on labor questions and on + financial matters.” + </p> + <p> + “They would act at least with intelligence and consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Intelligence, yes; but as to consideration, who at the present moment + most bitterly resents the tender solicitude of Lancashire for the welfare + and protection of the Indian factory operative? English and native + capitalists running cotton mills and factories.” + </p> + <p> + “But is the solicitude of Lancashire in this matter entirely + disinterested?” + </p> + <p> + “It is no business of mine to say. I merely indicate an example of how a + powerful commercial interest might hamper a Government intent in the first + place on the larger interests of humanity.” + </p> + <p> + Orde broke off to listen a moment. “There’s Dr. Lathrop talking to my wife + in the drawing-room,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Surely not; that’s a lady’s voice, and if my ears don’t deceive me, an + American.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, Dr. Eva McCreery Lathrop, chief of the new Women’s Hospital + here, and a very good fellow forbye. Good-morning, Doctor,” he said, as a + graceful figure came out on the veranda, “you seem to be in trouble. I + hope Mrs. Orde was able to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife is real kind and good, I always come to her when I’m in a fix + but I fear it’s more than comforting I want.” + </p> + <p> + “You work too hard and wear yourself out,” said Orde, kindly. “Let me + introduce my friend, Mr. Pagett, just fresh from home, and anxious to + learn his India. You could tell him something of that more important half + of which a mere man knows so little.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I could if I’d any heart to do it, but I’m in trouble, I’ve lost + a case, a case that was doing well, through nothing in the world but + inattention on the part of a nurse I had begun to trust. And when I spoke + only a small piece of my mind she collapsed in a whining heap on the + floor. It is hopeless.” + </p> + <p> + The men were silent, for the blue eyes of the lady doctor were dim. + Recovering herself she looked up with a smile, half sad, half humorous, + “And I am in a whining heap, too; but what phase of Indian life are you + particularly interested in, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pagett intends to study the political aspect of things and the + possibility of bestowing electoral institutions on the people.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t it be as much to the purpose to bestow point-lace collars on + them? They need many things more urgently than votes. Why it’s like giving + a bread-pill for a broken leg.” + </p> + <p> + “Er-I don’t quite follow,” said Pagett, uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s the matter with this country is not in the least political, + but an all round entanglement of physical, social, and moral evils and + corruptions, all more or less due to the unnatural treatment of women. You + can’t gather figs from thistles, and so long as the system of infant + marriage, the prohibition of the remarriage of widows, the lifelong + imprisonment of wives and mothers in a worse than penal confinement, and + the withholding from them of any kind of education or treatment as + rational beings continues, the country can’t advance a step. Half of it is + morally dead, and worse than dead, and that’s just the half from which we + have a right to look for the best impulses. It’s right here where the + trouble is, and not in any political considerations whatsoever.” + </p> + <p> + “But do they marry so early?” said Pagett, vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “The average age is seven, but thousands are married still earlier. One + result is that girls of twelve and thirteen have to bear the burden of + wifehood and motherhood, and, as might be expected, the rate of mortality + both for mothers and children is terrible. Pauperism, domestic + unhappiness, and a low state of health are only a few of the consequences + of this. Then, when, as frequently happens, the boy-husband dies + prematurely, his widow is condemned to worse than death. She may not + re-marry, must live a secluded and despised life, a life so unnatural that + she sometimes prefers suicide; more often she goes astray. You don’t know + in England what such words as ‘infant-marriage, baby-wife, girl-mother, + and virgin-widow’ mean; but they mean unspeakable horrors here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but the advanced political party here will surely make it their + business to advocate social reforms as well as political ones,” said + Pagett. + </p> + <p> + “Very surely they will do no such thing,” said the lady doctor, + emphatically. “I wish I could make you understand. Why, even of the funds + devoted to the Marchioness of Dufferin’s organization for medical aid to + the women of India, it was said in print and in speech, that they would be + better spent on more college scholarships for men. And in all the advanced + parties’ talk-God forgive them—and in all their programmes, they + carefully avoid all such subjects. They will talk about the protection of + the cow, for that’s an ancient superstition—they can all understand + that; but the protection of the women is a new and dangerous idea.” She + turned to Pagett impulsively: + </p> + <p> + “You are a member of the English Parliament. Can you do nothing? The + foundations of their life are rotten-utterly and bestially rotten. I could + tell your wife things that I couldn’t tell you. I know the life—the + inner life that belongs to the native, and I know nothing else; and + believe me you might as well try to grow golden-rod in a mushroom-pit as + to make anything of a people that are born and reared as these—these + things’re. The men talk of their rights and privileges. I have seen the + women that bear these very men, and again-may God forgive the men!” + </p> + <p> + Pagett’s eyes opened with a large wonder. Dr. Lathrop rose tempestuously. + </p> + <p> + “I must be off to lecture,” said she, “and I’m sorry that I can’t show you + my hospitals; but you had better believe, sir, that it’s more necessary + for India than all the elections in creation.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a woman with a mission, and no mistake,” said Pagett, after a + pause. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; she believes in her work, and so do I,” said Orde. “I’ve a notion + that in the end it will be found that the most helpful work done for India + in this generation was wrought by Lady Dufferin in drawing attention-what + work that was, by the way, even with her husband’s great name to back it + to the needs of women here. In effect, native habits and beliefs are an + organized conspiracy against the laws of health and happy life—but + there is some dawning of hope now.” + </p> + <p> + “How d’ you account for the general indifference, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it’s due in part to their fatalism and their utter indifference + to all human suffering. How much do you imagine the great province of the + Pun-jab with over twenty million people and half a score rich towns has + contributed to the maintenance of civil dispensaries last year? About + seven thousand rupees.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s seven hundred pounds,” said Pagett, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it was,” replied Orde; “but anyway, it’s an absurdly inadequate + sum, and shows one of the blank sides of Oriental character.” + </p> + <p> + Pagett was silent for a long time. The question of direct and personal + pain did not lie within his researches. He preferred to discuss the + weightier matters of the law, and contented himself with murmuring: + “They’ll do better later on.” Then, with a rush, returning to his first + thought: + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Orde, if it’s merely a class movement of a local and + temporary character, how d’ you account for Bradlaugh, who is at least a + man of sense taking it up?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of the champion of the New Brahmins but what I see in the + papers. I suppose there is something tempting in being hailed by a large + assemblage as the representative of the aspirations of two hundred and + fifty millions of people. Such a man looks ‘through all the roaring and + the wreaths,’ and does not reflect that it is a false perspective, which, + as a matter of fact, hides the real complex and manifold India from his + gaze. He can scarcely be expected to distinguish between the ambitions of + a new oligarchy and the real wants of the people of whom he knows nothing. + But it’s strange that a professed Radical should come to be the chosen + advocate of a movement which has for its aim the revival of an ancient + tyranny. Shows how even Radicalism can fall into academic grooves and miss + the essential truths of its own creed. Believe me, Pagett, to deal with + India you want first-hand knowledge and experience. I wish he would come + and live here for a couple of years or so.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not this rather an ad hominem style of argument?” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t help it in a case like this. Indeed, I am not sure you ought not to + go further and weigh the whole character and quality and upbringing of the + man. You must admit that the monumental complacency with which he trotted + out his ingenious little Constitution for India showed a strange want of + imagination and the sense of humor.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t quite admit it,” said Pagett. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know him and I don’t, but that’s how it strikes a stranger.” He + turned on his heel and paced the veranda thoughtfully. “And, after all, + the burden of the actual, daily unromantic toil falls on the shoulders of + the men out here, and not on his own. He enjoys all the privileges of + recommendation without responsibility, and we-well, perhaps, when you’ve + seen a little more of India you’ll understand. To begin with, our death + rate’s five times higher than yours-I speak now for the brutal bureaucrat—and + we work on the refuse of worked-out cities and exhausted civilizations, + among the bones of the dead.” + </p> + <p> + Pagett laughed. “That’s an epigrammatic way of putting it, Orde.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? Let’s see,” said the Deputy Commissioner of Amara, striding into + the sunshine toward a half-naked gardener potting roses. He took the man’s + hoe, and went to a rain-scarped bank at the bottom of the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, Pagett,” he said, and cut at the sun-baked soil. After three + strokes there rolled from under the blade of the hoe the half of a + clanking skeleton that settled at Pagett’s feet in an unseemly jumble of + bones. The M.P. drew back. + </p> + <p> + “Our houses are built on cemeteries,” said Orde. “There are scores of + thousands of graves within ten miles.” + </p> + <p> + Pagett was contemplating the skull with the awed fascination of a man who + has but little to do with the dead. “India’s a very curious place,” said + he, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Ah? You’ll know all about it in three months. Come in to lunch,” said + Orde. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Under the Deodars, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE DEODARS *** + +***** This file should be named 2828-h.htm or 2828-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/2/2828/ + +Produced by and Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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