The Charmed Life | Page 9

was a foolish thing to say,
absolutely ridiculous, but just then I couldn't think of anything else.
You see, at midnight, on the roof-top of some unknown native house in
the heart of the Colootallah, together with people of an unknown race
and faith, of alien tradition, alien emotions, even-- what would you
have said?
I struck to my native-born form of salutation, and held out my hand.
She gave me hers--it felt just like some warm, downy little baby
bird--and replied in English, with a certain faint nuance of mockery,
"Glad to meet you, sir," and I grinned and was about to open up a polite

conversation.
You see, momentarily I had really forgotten all about that bleary-eyed
old scoundrel. But he recalled himself to me almost immediately--with
an exceedingly rude and, considering his age, muscular push which
shoved me to one side and the girl to the other.
There he stood between us, like an exageratingly hideous Hindu idol of
revenge and hatred and lust and half a dozen other assorted beastly
qualities, the lamp trembling in his clawlike hand. He pointed at me,
addressing the girl in a mad, jerky, helter-skelter flood of Hindustani--I
didn't understand it--which caused the girl to pale and to shake her head
vigorously. It was evidence that he was accusing her of something or
other, and that she was denying the accusation indignantly. And then he
commenced abusing her in English, doubtless for my benefit.
I was stuffing his mouth at once with my fist, but the girl signaled to
me, frantically, imploringly, "No, no"--I saw her lips shaping the words
and so, temporarily I kept me peace while the old Hindu proceeded to
prove that he could translate Hindu abuse into very fair English.
"Ho!" he shouted at her. "Ho! thou daughter of unthinkable begatting!
Thou spawn of much filth. Thou especially illegitimate and shameless
hyena! Thou this and that and once more this! By Shiva and Shiva--I
shall wench thy wicked hide with the touchstone of pain and affliction!
I shall--"
"Look here" I interrupted "you are getting entirely too fresh. Stow your
line of talk, or--" and I made a significant gesture with my fist-- would
have hit him, too, if the girl had not signaled to me again--this time,
and I don't know what she wanted by it, pointing at her forehead and
then back at the building which terraced toward the center of the block.
The Hindu man was too angry to notice the by-play. "O Calamity!" he
went on. "O crimson shame! May Doorgha, the great goddess, cut out
thy heart and feed it to a mangy pig! What shameless doing are
these--O thou bazaar woman--to send word to thy lover--to have him
come here, to this house, and at night? Didst thou think that I would be

asleep? Thy lover--" he spat out, "and he a man of the accused foreign
race, an infidel, an eater of unclean food, a cannibal of the holy cow, a
swinish derider of the many gods! He--thy lover! Ah! by the Mother of
the Elephant's Trunk--thy portion shall be the pain which passeth
understanding!" Suddenly he turned and addressed himself to me, "and
as for thee--for thee--" He was so choked with fury that the words were
gurgled and died in his throat. He positively did not know whom to
insult or bully first, the girl or me. Like Balaam's Ass, he stood there,
undecided, and finally he made up his mind to attend first to the girl.
"Thou--" came an unmentionable epithet, unmentionable even among
Hindus, and you know how extravagant their abuse is inclined to be,
then he turned on her. His right hand still held the trembling lamp. He
struck out with his left. She tried to evade him--slipped--I was too late
to come to her rescue--only a glancing blow, but she fell, bumping her
head smartly against the stone pillar.
She gave a pitiful little moan--and was unconscious.
Then I got mad.
I rushed up to him, lunged, and missed. You see, the old beggar danced
away from me with a certain sharp, twisting agility which I wouldn't
have believed possibly in that aged, obese body of his. Also, I had to be
careful--on that confounded roof-top. No use tumbling over the
balustrade and breaking my neck. That wouldn't have helped the girl
any. The only chance I had was to get him against the wall on the side
opposite the gully--a torn-down wall occasionally connecting the
rooftop with the next layer on that maze of buildings.
Finally I managed to drive him toward the wall. I had him cornered. He
stood there--the lamp still flickering in his right, its ray sharply
silhouetting him against the spectral white stucco. I was quite
fascinated for a moment, looking