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Rujub, the Juggler. Henty George Alfred
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Автор произведения Henty George Alfred
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There could be no doubt that the Major’s niece was a great success in the regiment. Richards and Wilson, two lads who had joined six months before, succumbed at once, and mutual animosity succeeded the close friendship they had hitherto entertained for each other. Travers, the Senior Captain, a man who had hitherto been noted for his indifference to the charms of female society, went so far as to admit that Miss Hannay was a very nice, unaffected girl. Mrs. Doolan was quite enthusiastic about her.
“It is very lucky, Jim,” she said to her husband, “that you were a sober and respected married man before she came out, and that I am installed here as your lawful and wedded wife instead of being at Ballycrogin with only an engagement ring on my finger. I know your susceptible nature; you would have fallen in love with her, and she would not have had you, and we should both of us have been miserable.”
“How do you know she wouldn’t have had me, Norah?”
“Because, my dear, she will be able to pick and choose just where she likes; and though no one recognizes your virtues more than I do, a company in an Indian regiment is hardly as attractive as a Residency or Lieutenant Governorship. But seriously, she is a dear girl, and as yet does not seem to have the least idea how pretty she is. How cordially some of them will hate her! I anticipate great fun in looking on. I am out of all that sort of thing myself.”
“That is news to me, Norah; I think you are just as fond of a quiet flirtation as you used to be.”
“Just of a very little one, Jim; fortunately not more. So I can look on complacently; but even I have suffered. Why, for weeks not a day has passed without young Richards dropping in for a chat, and when he came in yesterday he could talk about nothing but Miss Hannay, until I shut him up by telling him it was extremely bad form to talk to one lady about another. The boy colored up till I almost laughed in his face; in fact, I believe I did laugh.”
“That I will warrant you did, Norah.”
“I could not help it, especially when he assured me he was perfectly serious about Miss Hannay.”
“You did not encourage him, I hope, Norah.”
“No; I told him the Colonel set his face against married subalterns, and that he would injure himself seriously in his profession if he were to think of such a thing, and as I knew he had nothing but his pay, that would be fatal to him.”
Captain Doolan went off into a burst of laughter.
“And he took it all in, Norah? He did not see that you were humbugging him altogether?”
“Not a bit of it. They are very amusing, these boys, Jim. I was really quite sorry for Richards, but I told him he would get over it in time, for as far as I could learn you had been just as bad thirty-three times before I finally took pity on you, and that I only did it then because you were wearing away with your troubles. I advised him to put the best face he could on it, for that Miss Hannay would be the last person to be pleased, if he were to be going about with a face as long as if he had just come from his aunt’s funeral.”
The race meeting came off three weeks after Miss Hannay arrived at Cawnpore. She had been to several dinners and parties by this time, and began to know most of the regular residents.
The races served as an excuse for people to come in from all the stations round. Men came over from Lucknow, Agra, and Allahabad, and from many a little outlying station; every bungalow in the cantonment was filled with guests, and tents were erected for the accommodation of the overflow.
Several of the officers of the 103d had horses and ponies entered in the various races. There was to be a dance at the club on the evening of the second day of the races, and a garden party at the General’s on that of the first. Richards and Wilson had both ponies entered for the race confined to country tats which had never won a race, and both had endeavored to find without success what was Isobel’s favorite color.
“But you must have some favorite color?” Wilson urged.
“Why must I, Mr. Wilson? One thing is suitable for one thing and one another, and I always like a color that is suitable for the occasion.”
“But what color are you going to wear at the races, Miss Hannay?”
“Well, you see, I have several dresses,” Isobel said gravely, “and I cannot say until the morning arrives which I may wear; it will depend a good deal how I feel. Besides, I might object to your wearing the same color as I do. You remember in the old times, knights, when they entered the lists, wore the favors that ladies had given them. Now I have no idea of giving you a favor. You have done nothing worthy of it. When you have won the Victoria Cross, and distinguished yourself by some extraordinarily gallant action, it will be quite time to think about it.”
“You see one has to send one’s color in four days beforehand, in time for them to print it on the card,” the lad said; “and besides, one has to get a jacket and cap made.”
“But you don’t reflect that it is quite possible your pony won’t win after all, and supposing that I had colors, I certainly should not like to see them come in last in the race. Mr. Richards has been asking me just the same thing, and, of course, I gave him the same answer. I can only give you the advice I gave him.”
“What was that, Miss Hannay?” Wilson asked eagerly.
“Well, you see, it is not very long since either of you left school, so I should think the best thing for you to wear are your school colors, whatever they were.”
And with a merry laugh at his look of discomfiture, Isobel turned away and joined Mrs. Doolan and two or three other ladies who were sitting with her.
“There is one comfort,” Mrs. Doolan was just saying, “in this country, when there is anything coming off, there is no occasion to be anxious as to the weather; one knows that it will be hot, fine, and dusty. One can wear one’s gayest dress without fear. In Ireland one never knew whether one wanted muslin or waterproof until the morning came, and even then one could not calculate with any certainty how it would be by twelve o’clock. This will be your first Indian festivity, Miss Hannay.”
“Do the natives come much?”
“I should think so! All Cawnpore will turn out, and we shall have the Lord of Bithoor and any number of Talookdars and Zemindars with their suites. A good many of them will have horses entered, and they have some good ones if they could but ride them. The Rajah of Bithoor is a most important personage. He talks English very well, and gives splendid entertainments. He is a most polite gentleman, and is always over here if there is anything going on. The general idea is that he has set his mind on having an English wife, the only difficulty being our objection to polygamy. He has every other advantage, and his wife would have jewels that a queen might envy.”
Isobel laughed. “I don’t think jewels would count for much in my ideas of happiness.”
“It is not so much the jewels, my dear, in themselves, but the envy they would excite in every other woman.”
“I don’t think I can understand that feeling, Mrs. Doolan. I can understand that there might be a satisfaction in being envied for being the happiest woman, or the most tastefully dressed woman, or even the prettiest woman, though that after all is a mere accident, but not for having the greatest number of bright stones, however valuable. I don’t think the most lovely set of diamonds ever seen would give me as much satisfaction as a few choice flowers.”
“Ah, but that is because you are quite young,” Mrs. Doolan said. “Eve was tempted by an apple, but Eve had not lived long. You see, an apple will tempt a child, and flowers a young girl. Diamonds are the bait of a woman.”
“You would not care for diamonds yourself, Mrs. Doolan?”
“I don’t know, my dear; the experiment was never tried—bog oak and Irish diamonds have