Our boys in India . figure, wearing only a little close-fitting chouli about her shoul-ders, that hardly reached herwaist, and a bright cloth boundclosely about her hips. Herlegs and arms were bare, exceptfor broad bands of gold andsilver that circled her wrists andankles; and there were largeear-rings in her ears, and alittle gold star on one side ofher nose. On her toes weresilver rings, that clinked as shewalked on the bare places onthe floor. Beside the fire satDhondaram. Paul knew it wasDhondaram, for he heard hisvoice. But what a change ! Ahuore red turban was twistedabout his head in gr
Our boys in India . figure, wearing only a little close-fitting chouli about her shoul-ders, that hardly reached herwaist, and a bright cloth boundclosely about her hips. Herlegs and arms were bare, exceptfor broad bands of gold andsilver that circled her wrists andankles; and there were largeear-rings in her ears, and alittle gold star on one side ofher nose. On her toes weresilver rings, that clinked as shewalked on the bare places onthe floor. Beside the fire satDhondaram. Paul knew it wasDhondaram, for he heard hisvoice. But what a change ! Ahuore red turban was twistedabout his head in graceful, butbrigandish folds. His beard was shaven off, leaving only aheavy mustache that looked fiercer than ever. Instead of theplain munis frock that was all he had worn, bound at thewaist with a simple girdle, he wore a loose woollen jacket, withflowing sleeves. An enormous girdle, the same color as histurban, was wound about his waist; and he wore a pair ofloose woollen breeches to the knees, and a pair of heavy. DHONDAKAM IN ARMOR. 2^6 OUR BOYS IN INDIA. sandals on his feet. Leaning against the wall behind him wasa sword almost five feet long. Dhondaram and the woman were engaged in earnestconversation in a low tone, but Paul could distinctly hear andunderstand most of what they said. Why should I defile myself? muttered the I not a Bramhan woman? Are you not a Bramhan?Am I not desolate that you wander as you do ? Do I notdie every day, till the wind is ever in my bones ? Am I notcursed by the breath that I breathe, and the food that I eat?Have I not already defiled myself a thousand times, till mypenance and purification keep me the day long, and thevoice of the mother speaks feebly now, and sometimes notat all ? When will this wandering cease, Dhondaram ? Whenwill these wild ideas of yours have rest ? The boy is wellenough. I wish him no ill. I would do him no ill. I wouldinjure no one. I hate no one except the ones you hate, andwho have injured you. But why, in
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