"Thence shall I pass, approved
A man, for ay removed
From the developed brute; a god,
Though in the germ."--_Browning_.
Blazing hot simply did not describe the degree of heat which pressed
down upon and around Leonie as she sat totally unconscious of it on the
verandah of the Bongong dâk bungalow.
For the benefit of those who have not experienced the assorted joys of
travelling in India, a dâk--pronounced dork--bungalow is a travellers'
rest, humble or spacious, presided over or not, as the case may be, by
a simple and courteous native. They are to be found dotted about
everywhere--in jungles, on roads, and outside ruined cities; and there
you can stay for an hour or a night, sleeping in comfort, provided you
have brought your own bedding and mosquito netting; eating according to
the contents of your hamper.
In the cooler hours vivid flashes of orange and black, or black and
red, or turquoise blue and green, or white flit across from tree to
tree; parrots chatter, crows scream, and the brain-fever bird soothes
or irritates you according to your mood, and you tap your fingers on
the table in time to the metallic anvil cry of the coppersmith bird,
until a tiger-ant or some such voracious insect claims your undivided
attention.
In the heat of noon the only sounds to break the intense stillness are
the metallic anvil cry of the aforesaid coppersmith bird, and the
never-ceasing call of his brain-fever brother.
Except for your own there is no movement whatever--the voracious insect
is always with you.
Quite alone in the bungalow, with her back to the open bedroom, Leonie
sat undisturbed, with her eyes fixed unseeingly upon the tree-lined
road, and a torrent of disconnected thought swirling through her mind.
Exactly what she was doing, and why she was doing it, she had no idea;
she only knew that do it she must, and was content to let it rest.
Programme or plan she had none, only an intolerable desire to get to
the ruined temple in the jungle.
For what?
She had no notion! She had to get there quickly, that was all she knew.
She sat on, with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands,
without stirring; in fact you would have sworn she was asleep so still
was she in the silence broken only by the two birds.
She could see the car a little way down the road awaiting her, with the
driver curled up sound asleep beside it at the foot of a tree; the
bearer asleep too somewhere, she surmised hazily, as the sound of the
packing of the hamper had altogether ceased.
And then something, instinct maybe, or whatever you like to label the
incorporeal look-out in our psychological crow's nest, whispered to her
that it might be wise if she awoke to her surroundings.
There had not been a sound, nevertheless she felt that somebody stood
quite near to her.
She did not move her head, but her eyes flashed quickly to right and
left, and she frowned ever so slightly when she remembered that her
revolver had been left behind in Calcutta, safely tucked away at the
bottom of her dressing-case.
As is the usual way when a revolver is owned by woman.
Nothing stirred except the little curls on the nape of her neck, which
quivered when she shivered involuntarily.
It happens every day in India! The land where curtains take the place
of wooden doors, and a deferential servant on noiseless, unshod feet
glides into your chamber unannounced, and stands patiently behind you
until it pleases your august self to turn and acknowledge his humble
presence.
That's what you think, anyway.
And it takes quite a time to become accustomed to the noiselessness of
this proceeding, and to control the start which gives you away
completely.
Leonie could stand the uncertainty no longer, she suddenly swept round
in her chair, and remained quite still with her mouth slightly open,
and her eyes fixed upon the face of her bearer.
He was just behind her chair, his white full-skirted coat touching the
back of it, his arms folded; but as Leonie turned he took one step back
and salaamed with both hands before his face, completely hiding the
blazing eyes for the one second sufficient for them to regain their
normal placid, indifferent look, as he gently made it known that all
was ready if the mem-sahib desired to depart or to sleep.
Yes, his eyes _had_ blazed as they rested upon the gracious lines of
this woman he loved, but whom, before he had known her, he had vowed,
in the transports of his religion, to bring unto his god.
Yes! and the whole body of this magnificent being, vowed to holiness by
his parents, _had_ trembled as he stood close to her sweet-scented
person; so close that it had seemed as though he stood knee deep in a
bed of clover at dawn.
Yes! and he was alone with her, with the knowledge of his power upon
her mind; yet he would not have touched one hair of her head, nor laid
a finger upon her against her will, even though she was absolutely at
his mercy, and the inner room was misty with shadows.
They are gentlemen of the finest type, these pure bred sons of India;
not the ravening beasts of prey towards women described so minutely,
and with such nauseating detail, in various religious and altruistic
pamphlets; little literary atrocities written mostly by men and women
who have gathered their experiences of the East from an exhibition or
two at the White City or Earl's Court, and their data from their own
scurrilous minds.
Bad types there are in every country! But for pity's sake let these
social reformers stick to the West, and start on those who make it
unpleasant, if not unsafe, for an honest, well-groomed woman, with
pretty feet and veiled face, to walk slowly by day, or by night,
through the so-called decent streets of London town.
Let them leave the fine, cultured men of India to their own gods and
their own customs, remembering that their ways are not our ways; for
which those of them who have tarried in our country, return thanks as,
laying an offering of thanksgiving before their god, they lift the
purdah, behind which awaits the modest, gentle little maid; perfumed
with the scents of the East instead of the aroma of whisky or brandy
pegs allied to the tobacco of Turkey or Virginia; and unbesmirched by
the close embrace of the fox-trot which caused a certain Maharajah, on
a visit to England, to remark to an Englishwoman:
"Why! I thought----"
Well, perhaps 'twere better that the damning commentary should be left
unwritten.
It was late in the evening when Leonie questioned her servant.
"Does the serang know exactly where I want to go? And how quickly can
he get there?"
She was having dinner, and quite a good one, in the front part of the
living-room in Jessore's dâk bungalow. This room can be divided into
two by means of a curtain drawn across, and you can listen, in fact you
are obliged to listen, if there is another party ensconced behind,
either to the furtive love-whispers of those who should not be there,
or the frank abuse of each other of the _bonâ fide_ couple suffering
from intense heat and long years of matrimony.
Leonie spoke over her shoulder in the direction of the bedroom, where
the bearer was arranging the mosquito net, her toilet things, and her
new-bought dainty night attire.
It you are the right type or caste everything always goes smoothly for
you in India; if you are not it most emphatically does _not_; so she
had not given a thought to the extraordinary ease with which her wishes
seemed to be carried out, in fact forestalled.
"It is the same serang who took the mem-sahib when she went on the
_shikar_ and killed the man-eating tiger. The two coolies to carry the
mem-sahib's luggage have been hired, and the boat will be moored
to-morrow night!"
"To-morrow _night_," said Leonie, the light from the adjoining room
throwing up her white face against the shadows of the quickly falling
night. "But it took us _two_ nights to get there last time."
"We are going a shorter way, mem-sahib. The launch will be moored in a
big creek on the front of the island at which the mem-sahib landed last
time. A small boat will take us through the very narrow creek, which
encircles the island, to the other side near which the temple stands.
There will not be much walking for the mem-sahib, she can proceed
immediately to the temple in time to see the sunrise, or pass the night
in a _suapattah_----"
"Oh! never _that_!" said Leonie most decidedly, thinking of her last
experience.
"But this hut is clean, mem-sahib!"
Leonie turned right round in her chair.
"How do you know that the last hut was not?"
"All huts are dirty, mem-sahib."
There was not a sign of confusion on the calm well-bred face, and he
stood like a statue as Leonie, unconsciously striving for light in the
darkness, continued her questioning.
"How did you know I wanted to go to the same place--to the temple, I
mean?"
"I did not know, the mem-sahib told the chauffeur!"
At the last word Leonie lifted her head, and her eyes rested intently
upon the handsome face in the doorway between the two rooms.
"No! I did not!"
"The great heat of the day doubtless caused the mem-sahib to forget the
order she gave to her servant."
Never argue with a native of India, because educated or not he will
invariably, and with the utmost courtesy, make you feel at the end of
the argument that, if not a born, you are at least an excellent
temporary liar.
"Did your parents have you taught your remarkable English?"
"The mem-sahib is too kind to inquire."
In India you do not show curiosity about your servants' private affairs
or their families, it is not expected, it is not understood; and at the
silence which followed the answer Leonie, feeling herself rebuked, rose
from the table, and walked out on to the verandah to hide the colour
which swept her face from chin to brow.
In the middle of the night, when suddenly and unaccountably aroused
from a restless doze, she spoke sharply as her eyes rested on a white
figure prone upon the floor in the reflected light of the moon.
"_Bearer_!"
Her voice was indignant, and the man with one movement rose to his feet
and salaamed.
"What _do_ you mean by sleeping in my room?"
Dear heaven, how he loved her as she sat like an image of wrath behind
the mosquito net with the sheet pulled up to her neck.
"There are three doors to the mem-sahib's bedroom, and as the blinds
fit badly, except for the presence of her servant, there is nothing to
prevent a pariah dog, a jackal, or a thief from entering."
"Please leave my room and sleep somewhere else. I do not like it, and
I am quite safe."
Leonie, feeling acutely the want of dignity in her bunched-up attitude,
did not know what to say when the man refused suavely, but point-blank,
to leave her.
"I regret that I cannot obey, as the mem-sahib is in my care, and I am
responsible for her safety; but until the day breaks I will keep watch
at the foot of the bed where the mem-sahib's eyes cannot rest upon her
servant!"
Oh! Leonie! Leonie! With that strange, angry, and unaccounted-for
mark still upon your shoulder, if only you knew what a fuss you were
making over nothing.
But she said thank you quite nicely when _chotar hazri_ was placed
beside her bed in the early morning, to the refreshing sound of water
being heaved into the tin bath in the dressing-room.