girls in England who had found the younger man's attractions irresistible
and raved over his dark skin and the fascinating suggestion of the Orient
in him, should have seen the pair now. The son, ultra-English in his
costume, from his sun-hat to his riding-breeches and gaiters, and the old
Bengali, ridiculously like him in features, despite his shaven crown with
one oiled scalp-lock, his bulbous nose and flabby cheeks, and teeth stained
red by betel-chewing. On his forehead were painted three white horizontal
strokes, the mark of the worshippers of Siva the Destroyer. His only
garment was a dirty old _dhoti_ tied round his fat, naked paunch.

He grinned at his son's ill-temper and replied briefly:

"The Rajah wishes to see thee, son."

"Why? Is there anything new?"

"I do not know. Thou art angry at being torn from the side of the English
girl. Art thou to marry her? Why not be satisfied to wed one of thine own
countrywomen?"

The younger man spat contemptuously.

"I would not be content with a fat Hindu cow after having known English
girls. Thou shouldest see those of London, old man. How they love us of
dark skin and believe our tales that we are Indian princes!"

The father leered unpleasantly.

"Thou hast often told me that these white women are shameless. Is it
needful to pay the price of marriage to possess this one?"