and leave any subtle tie behind me that would make it possible for me to come back again.'
As I sat there in a mood of abstraction, Rajlakshmi crossed the verandah on her way to one of the rooms: in her hand she carried a censer in which incense was burning. She stopped as she passed me, and said, 'You mustn't stay out here in this chill air when you've got a headache. Go and sit inside.'
I felt inclined to laugh. 'You surprise me, Lakkhi,' said I. 'There is no chill in the air.'
'If there is no chill,' she replied, 'there is a cold draught. That's not good for you either.'
'You are again mistaken. There is no draught either.'
'Everything is my mistake,' said Rajlakshmi. 'But your headache can't be a mistake, I'm sure. Why don't you go inside and lie down a little? What is Ratan doing? Why can't he put a little eau-de-cologne on your forehead? The servants of this house are the laziest rascals I've ever seen!' and she vanished into the house.
When Ratan appeared in my room a few minutes later with eau-de—cologne, water, and other accessories, contrite and sorry, and began to express repeatedly his regrets for his neglect of me, I could not help laughing.
This put some heart into him and he said in a low voice, 'Do I not know, sir, that I am not to blame for this? But you don't surely expect one to tell her, sir, that when she is angry she finds fault with everyone in the house?'
'Why is she angry?' I asked.
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