Part 18 (2/2)
had come out of a small nest-egg which her owner had brought from home.
He pointed out the enormous price of gram, or English oats, and he earnestly entreated Shafto ”not to be led into follies by other people”
(meaning FitzGerald), ”but to keep his head and go slow.”
During this month of November Shafto had frequently come across his fellow-pa.s.sengers in the _Blanks.h.i.+re_; even Lady Puffle had acknowledged his existence with a bow; not once had he beheld the desire of his eyes--Miss Leigh. She appeared to have vanished as completely as a summer mist and, it was whispered, had been swallowed up and submerged by the German colony.
Mrs. Krauss had vouchsafed no notice of his visit and card; her niece was never to be seen either at the Gymkhana, or on the lakes--the princ.i.p.al meeting-places for young and old. More than once he imagined that he had caught sight of her in the cathedral at evening service, but she looked so different in smart Sunday clothes--a feathered hat and gauzy gown--that he might have been mistaken, and he heard from MacNab (the gossip of the chummery) that Krauss had brought forward a remarkably pretty niece, who had recently played in a concert at the German Club, and made a sensational success.
When Shafto rode in the mornings, he eyed expectantly every pa.s.sing or approaching habit, but Sophy Leigh was never among the early cavalcade--for the excellent reason that she had no horse.
Mrs. Gregory, in spite of multifarious occupations as the firm's vice-reine, had by no means forgotten pretty Miss Leigh, nor her cousin's emphatic instructions; the girl had failed to accompany her to the Gymkhana dance--”her aunt was ill; she had been unable to leave her”--a stereotyped excuse to every invitation. The truth was that Mrs. Krauss, after two or three social efforts, culminating in a large dinner-party to her German neighbours, had collapsed with one of her worst attacks, and between nursing her relative and housekeeping for Herr Krauss (who was shamelessly greedy and exacting), Sophy had not a moment to spare, and the Madras boy turned away all callers--including Miss Leigh's friends--with his mechanical parrot cry, ”Missis can't see!”
CHAPTER XVII
AT THE PLAY
Theatrical performances are the chief entertainment in Burma; the Burmese as a nation delight in plays--operatic, tragic, opera bouffe and ballets, such as the ”Han Pwe,” when a number of young girls, all dressed as royalties, posture and dance with extreme grace; and as their training is perfect, the entertainment evokes unqualified applause. So interested and absorbed do the audience become in long drawn-out dramatic performances, with interludes of dancing and singing, that they will bring their bedding, and not merely remain all night but several nights--according as the play may hold them! As a rule, the background is a palace, and the plot concerns the love story of a prince and princess, which is interrupted by all manner of vicissitudes--some grotesque, others of genuine pathos; to these the accompaniment of soft, wailing Burmese music is admirably adapted.
Po Sine, the greatest actor in Burma--an Eastern ”star”--had recently returned to Rangoon from a prolonged tour, and his admirers, who numbered thousands, were all agog to see and welcome him.
The princ.i.p.al theatre was established in a large s.p.a.ce at the back of the Great PaG.o.da, trustfully open to the soft blue night, otherwise strictly encompa.s.sed with matting; for in these changed and money-making days, there was an official box-office at the entrance and no admittance without cash payment! The stage was only raised a foot or two from the ground, and a long row of little lamps threw a becoming red light upon the scene. Here many rows of chairs were arranged for the use of Europeans, whilst the Easterns sat upon the ground on mats and folded themselves up in easy native fas.h.i.+on.
On the first night of Po Sine's reappearance, the arena was packed to the utmost limit of the matting. In the front were a.s.sembled many European residents, who were treated to bunches of flowers, paper fans, cheroots and lemonade; also, in a reserved s.p.a.ce and on gorgeous rugs, reclined a number of splendidly attired and bejewelled Burmese ladies--princesses of the Royal house, a sprightly and animated group; their flas.h.i.+ng diamond combs and long diamond chains made a feature amid the audience.
Mrs. Gregory had brought a small party, which included Mena Pomeroy, Robin Close--one of the a.s.sistants--and Douglas Shafto, who had never yet seen the famous Po Sine. Somehow Miss Pomeroy and Mr. Close had contrived to get separated from their chaperon, but Shafto still stuck faithfully to his hostess.
A puppet play represented the curtain-raiser, and as this, to Shafto, was no novelty, he stared about him at the ma.s.ses of s.h.i.+ning black heads; men with jaunty silk handkerchiefs twisted round their brows, women with their wreaths and golden combs--an undeniably smart audience--all smoking. The stage was open to the dark blue sky, which was sprinkled with stars. Right above them clanged a temple gong; from far down the river came the hoot of a steamer's syren, and during intervals the soft humming of the wind among the labyrinth of shrines--a complete contrast in every respect was this Eastern scene to the last play he had witnessed in a London theatre!
All at once there was an influx of people surging in--crafty folk who knew how to avoid the curtain-raiser. These included a number of Germans. Among the party in the train of Mrs. Muller, and attended by Herr Bernhard, was Miss Leigh in a dainty white frock and flower-trimmed hat, but somehow looking a little bit out of the picture. Her chaperon, magnificent in a Viennese toilet, unexpectedly encountered friends who had recently arrived from the Fatherland; these she hailed with boisterous jubilation, and as she chattered and gesticulated, listened and interrupted, she entirely forgot her charge; in fact, she moved on, still talking, and abandoned her, so to speak, to her fate.
Sophy's fate, luckily for her, happened to be Mrs. Gregory, who signed to Shafto to rescue the young lady and conduct her to a place under her own wing.
”How are you?” he said, accosting her eagerly. ”Mrs. Gregory has sent me to ask if you won't sit by her? There is lots of room.”
”I should love to, but you see I am here officially with Mrs. Muller.
I'll go and speak to her, but I think she has filled my seat.”
A hasty word to the chaperon, who had entirely forgotten her existence, released Sophy and, as she joined Mrs. Gregory, Frau Muller said with a shrug:
”Oh yes, she is rather pretty in her way. She has got among those odious English--let her stay with them!”
(Then she threw herself once more into the interesting topic of the latest scandal in Frankfort.)
”I am so pleased to see you,” said Mrs. Gregory, making room for Sophy beside her; ”what has become of you all these weeks?”
”Oh, I have been in Kokine and quite safe,” she answered, but her smile was not so ready and whole-hearted as it had been on board s.h.i.+p. ”Aunt Flora caught a chill and has been laid up. Poor dear, she is a martyr to neuralgia.”
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