"I must speak with that German gentleman
who was giving lecture here--must positivelee give him warning, or
all his hopes will be blasted everlastinglee! No--that is room where
are cobras--I will not go there!"
In three native languages, one after the other, he pleaded and
wailed to no good end; the women were too many for him. He was shoved
into a small room as a fat beast is driven into a slaughter-stall,
and a door was slammed shut on him. He screamed at an unexpected
voice from behind a curtain, and a moment later burst into a sweat
from reaction at the sight of Yasmini.
"Listen, _babuji,_" she purred to him.
"Who was that man asking for me?" demanded the German.
"How should I know?" snorted Ranjoor Singh. "Are we to turn aside
for every fat babu that asks to speak to us? I have sent for horses."
"I will speak with that man!" said the German.
He began to walk up and down the length of the long room, pushing
aside the cushions irritably, and at one end knocking over a great
bowl of flowers. He did not appear conscious of his clumsiness, and
did not seem to see the maids who ran to mop up the water. At the
next turn down the room he pushed between them as if they had not
been there. Ranjoor Singh stood watching him, stroking a black beard
reflectively; he was perfectly sure that Yasmini would make the next
move, and was willing to wait for it.
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