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XI Flory and Elizabeth walked down the bazaar road. It was morning, but the air was so hot that to walk in it was like wading through a torrid sea. Strings of Burmans passed, coming from the bazaar, on scraping sandals, and knots of girls who hurried by four and five abreast, with short quick steps, chattering, their burnished hair gleaming. By the roadside, just before you got to the jail, the fragments of a stone pagoda were littered, cracked and overthrown by the strong roots of a peepul tree. The angry carved faces of demons looked up from the grass where they had fallen. Nearby another peepul tree had twined itself round a palm, uprooting it and bending it backwards in a wrestle that had lasted a decade. They walked on and came to the jail, a vast square block, two hundred yards each way, with shiny concrete walls twenty feet high. A peacock, pet of the jail, was mincing pigeon-toed along the parapet. Six convicts came by, head down, dragging two heavy handcarts piled with earth, under the guard of Indian warders. They were long-sentence men, with heavy limbs, dressed in uniforms of coarse white cloth with small dunces’ caps perched on their shaven crowns. Their faces were greyish, cowed and curiously flattened. Their leg-irons jingled with a clear ring. A woman came past carrying a basket of fish on her head. Two crows were circling round it and making darts at it, and the woman was flapping one hand negligently to keep them away. There was a din of voices a little distance away. ‘The bazaar’s just round the corner,’ Flory said. ‘I think this is a market morning. It’s rather fun to watch.’ He had asked her to come down to the bazaar with him, telling her it would amuse her to see it. They rounded the bend. The bazaar was an enclosure like a very large cattle pen, with low stalls, mostly palm-thatched, round its edge. In the enclosure, a mob of people seethed, shouting and jostling; the confusion of their multicoloured clothes was like a cascade of hundreds-and-thousands poured out of a jar. Beyond the bazaar one could see the huge, miry river. Tree branches and long streaks of scum raced down it at seven miles an hour. By the bank a fleet of sampans, with sharp beak-like bows on which eyes were painted, rocked at their mooring-poles. Flory and Elizabeth stood watching for a moment. Files of women passed balancing vegetable baskets on their heads, and pop-eyed children who stared at the Europeans. An old Chinese in dungarees faded to sky-blue hurried by, nursing some unrecognisable, bloody fragment of a pig’s intestines. ‘Let’s go and poke round the stalls a bit, shall we?’ Flory said. ‘Is it all right going in among that crowd? Everything’s so horribly dirty.’
‘Oh, it’s all right, they’ll make way for us. It’ll interest you.’ Elizabeth followed him doubtfully and even unwillingly. Why was it that he always brought her to these places? Why was he forever dragging her in among the ‘natives’, trying to get her to take an interest in them and watch their filthy, disgusting habits? It was all wrong, somehow. However, she followed, not feeling able to explain her reluctance. A wave of stifling air met them; there was a reek of garlic, dried fish, sweat, dust, anise, cloves and turmeric. The crowd surged round them, swarms of stocky peasants with cigar-brown faces, withered elders with their grey hair tied in a bun behind, young mothers carrying naked babies astride the hip. Flo was trodden on and yelped. Low, strong shoulders bumped against Elizabeth, as the peasants, too busy bargaining even to stare at a white woman, struggled round the stalls. ‘Look!’ Flory was pointing with his stick to a stall, and saying something, but it was drowned by the yells of two women who were shaking their fists at each other over a basket of pineapples. Elizabeth had recoiled from the stench and din, but he did not notice it, and led her deeper into the crowd, pointing to this stall and that. The merchandise was foreign-looking, queer and poor. There were vast pomelos hanging on strings like green moons, red bananas, baskets of heliotrope-coloured prawns the size of lobsters, brittle dried fish tied in bundles, crimson chilis, ducks split open and cured like hams, green coco-nuts, the larvae of the rhinoceros beetle, sections of sugar-cane, dahs, lacquered sandals, check silk longyis, aphrodisiacs in the form of large, soap-like pills, glazed earthenware jars four feet high, Chinese sweetmeats made of garlic and sugar, green and white cigars, purple brinjals, persimmon-seed necklaces, chickens cheeping in wicker cages, brass Buddhas, heartshaped betel leaves, bottles of Kruschen salts, switches of false hair, red clay cooking-pots, steel shoes for bullocks, papier-mâché marionettes, strips of alligator hide with magical properties. Elizabeth’s head was beginning to swim. At the other end of the bazaar the sun gleamed through a priest’s umbrella, blood-red, as though through the ear of a giant. In front of a stall four Dravidian women were pounding turmeric with heavy stakes in a large wooden mortar. The hot-scented yellow powder flew up and tickled Elizabeth’s nostrils, making her sneeze. She felt that she could not endure this place a moment longer. She touched Flory’s arm. ‘This crowd–the heat is so dreadful. Do you think we could get into the shade?’ He turned round. To tell the truth, he had been too busy talking–mostly inaudibly, because of the din–to notice how the heat and stench were affecting her. ‘Oh, I say, I am sorry. Let’s get out of it at once. I tell you what, we’ll go along to old Li Yeik’s shop–he’s the Chinese grocer–and he’ll get us a drink of something. It is rather stifling here.’ ‘All these spices–they kind of take your breath away. And what is that dreadful smell like fish?’ ‘Oh, only a kind of sauce they make out of prawns. They bury them and then dig them up several weeks afterwards.’ ‘How absolutely horrible!’ ‘Quite wholesome, I believe. Come away from that!’ he added to Flo, who was nosing at a basket of small gudgeon-like fish with spines on their gills. Li Yeik’s shop faced the further end of the bazaar. What Elizabeth had really wanted was to go straight back to the Club, but the European look of Li Yeik’s shopfront–it was piled with Lancashire-
- Page 37 and 38: various industries. Where are the I
- Page 39 and 40: efore this cursed sun gets too high
- Page 41 and 42: ‘Yes, I heard that. We hear all t
- Page 43 and 44: Ko S’la put the tea-tray down on
- Page 45 and 46: her, because of its strangeness and
- Page 47 and 48: Flory got out of the water, put on
- Page 49 and 50: V In spite of the whisky he had dru
- Page 51 and 52: school. In his last term he and ano
- Page 53 and 54: imperialism in which he lived. For
- Page 55 and 56: streaming egrets-were more native t
- Page 57 and 58: ‘No.’ ‘You have been in priso
- Page 59 and 60: (Signed) A FRIEND. The letter was w
- Page 61 and 62: did not think she could be much pas
- Page 63 and 64: ‘What it means to meet somebody w
- Page 65 and 66: VII Elizabeth lay on the sofa in th
- Page 67 and 68: ‘school’ where she produced gre
- Page 69 and 70: of the bow was like a moving arrowh
- Page 71 and 72: ‘And oh, aunt, such an interestin
- Page 73 and 74: there would be a scandal when they
- Page 75 and 76: grotesque, it’s even ugly, with a
- Page 77 and 78: sahib’. Mr Macgregor made a very
- Page 79 and 80: IX During the next fortnight a grea
- Page 81 and 82: S’la’s notions of what went on
- Page 83 and 84: He was anything but tactful with he
- Page 85 and 86: ‘Thanks, I’ll remember about th
- Page 87: example-she seemed to have an enthu
- Page 91 and 92: girls wear broad brass rings to str
- Page 93 and 94: They walked up the road, he to the
- Page 95 and 96: murder by poison, murder by sympath
- Page 97 and 98: Thongwa to rebel, and then I arrest
- Page 99 and 100: ‘Do you not see, woman? Do you no
- Page 101 and 102: operations. ‘Belly-cutting’ was
- Page 103 and 104: ‘Ah, I have a few friends left. B
- Page 105 and 106: shoulder. Flory walked into the hou
- Page 107 and 108: Instantly she cried out in renewed
- Page 109 and 110: naked boy was standing between two
- Page 111 and 112: were tattooed with dark blue patter
- Page 113 and 114: As they were walking to the fifth b
- Page 115 and 116: ‘Oh, do let’s! Oh, what awful f
- Page 117 and 118: stroked his beautiful white belly,
- Page 119 and 120: morning when he met her, and the si
- Page 121 and 122: to marry him? He was being so slow
- Page 123 and 124: teetotal pledge tomorrow morning. H
- Page 125 and 126: ‘I’m afraid you won’t get any
- Page 127 and 128: to his feet. He was badly bruised,
- Page 129 and 130: ‘Oh, shut up! I’m sick of the s
- Page 131 and 132: that ran down to the Irrawaddy. The
- Page 133 and 134: ‘Go away this instant! If you fol
- Page 135 and 136: help. The doctor sent back a quanti
- Page 137 and 138: struck too hard, came swishing thro
‘Oh, it’s all right, they’ll make way for us. It’ll interest you.’<br />
Elizabeth followed him doubtfully and even unwillingly. Why was it that he always brought her to<br />
these places? Why was he forever dragging her in among the ‘natives’, trying to get her to take an<br />
interest in them and watch their filthy, disgusting habits? It was all wrong, somehow. However, she<br />
followed, not feeling able to explain her reluctance. A wave of stifling air met them; there was a reek<br />
of garlic, dried fish, sweat, dust, anise, cloves and turmeric. The crowd surged round them, swarms<br />
of stocky peasants with cigar-brown faces, withered elders with their grey hair tied in a bun behind,<br />
young mothers carrying naked babies astride the hip. Flo was trodden on and yelped. Low, strong<br />
shoulders bumped against Elizabeth, as the peasants, too busy bargaining even to stare at a white<br />
woman, struggled round the stalls.<br />
‘Look!’ Flory was pointing with his stick to a stall, and saying something, but it was drowned by<br />
the yells of two women who were shaking their fists at each other over a basket of pineapples.<br />
Elizabeth had recoiled from the stench and din, but he did not notice it, and led her deeper into the<br />
crowd, pointing to this stall and that. The merchandise was foreign-looking, queer and poor. There<br />
were vast pomelos hanging on strings like green moons, red bananas, baskets of heliotrope-coloured<br />
prawns the size of lobsters, brittle dried fish tied in bundles, crimson chilis, ducks split open and<br />
cured like hams, green coco-nuts, the larvae of the rhinoceros beetle, sections of sugar-cane, dahs,<br />
lacquered sandals, check silk longyis, aphrodisiacs in the form of large, soap-like pills, glazed<br />
earthenware jars four feet high, Chinese sweetmeats made of garlic and sugar, green and white cigars,<br />
purple brinjals, persimmon-seed necklaces, chickens cheeping in wicker cages, brass Buddhas, heartshaped<br />
betel leaves, bottles of Kruschen salts, switches of false hair, red clay cooking-pots, steel<br />
shoes for bullocks, papier-mâché marionettes, strips of alligator hide with magical properties.<br />
Elizabeth’s head was beginning to swim. At the other end of the bazaar the sun gleamed through a<br />
priest’s umbrella, blood-red, as though through the ear of a giant. In front of a stall four Dravidian<br />
women were pounding turmeric with heavy stakes in a large wooden mortar. The hot-scented yellow<br />
powder flew up and tickled Elizabeth’s nostrils, making her sneeze. She felt that she could not endure<br />
this place a moment longer. She touched Flory’s arm.<br />
‘This crowd–the heat is so dreadful. Do you think we could get into the shade?’<br />
He turned round. To tell the truth, he had been too busy talking–mostly inaudibly, because of the<br />
din–to notice how the heat and stench were affecting her.<br />
‘Oh, I say, I am sorry. Let’s get out of it at once. I tell you what, we’ll go along to old Li Yeik’s<br />
shop–he’s the Chinese grocer–and he’ll get us a drink of something. It is rather stifling here.’<br />
‘All these spices–they kind of take your breath away. And what is that dreadful smell like fish?’<br />
‘Oh, only a kind of sauce they make out of prawns. They bury them and then dig them up several<br />
weeks afterwards.’<br />
‘How absolutely horrible!’<br />
‘Quite wholesome, I believe. Come away from that!’ he added to Flo, who was nosing at a basket<br />
of small gudgeon-like fish with spines on their gills.<br />
Li Yeik’s shop faced the further end of the bazaar. What Elizabeth had really wanted was to go<br />
straight back to the Club, but the European look of Li Yeik’s shopfront–it was piled with Lancashire-