“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 dak bungalow.
For the benefit of those who have
not experienced the assorted joys of travelling in
India, a dak-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 dak 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
bona 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.