"I have been an idiot, and mad," she muttered to herself. "He is right; I have done wrong, but I cannot go back now; I should lose all. I do not know these Englishmen. I thought he would have been proud and glad, and now he looks down upon me, and I feel so low--so crushed--that I could kill myself with rage. Ah! why do I not know more of their ways? I am but a poor, weak savage still, and I show my temper like a child." She walked wearily to the window, and stood with her broad forehead leaning against the bars, and for quite an hour neither of her women dared to approach her. "Well, old fellow, feel any better for your dinner?" said Chumbley, heartily, as he strode up to the divan. "Dinner? No. Hang the woman; how dare she insult us like that?" chafed Hilton. "As if there were anything between Helen Perowne now and me." "It was rather warm upon you, certainly," said Chumbley; "but she was wild, and you were not above a few bitter repartees." "Bitter? Why, you are taking the Jezebel's part!" "Come, come, come, don't call ugly names," said Chumbley, sturdily. "No name is too bad for such a woman!" cried Hilton. "Drop it, I say," cried Chumbley. "We've eaten her dinner and drunk her wine. Don't let's abuse her now." "Why hang it, Chum, have you fallen in love with the black goddess?" cried Hilton. "There, go and beg pardon, then; woo her, and wed her. Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed, mockingly, without seeing the hot angry spots in his companion's cheeks. "I resign in your favour. The life would just suit you. Come: here's a chance for you to prove a good friend to me, most miserable fellow under the sun. Go and tell her you will be my hostage. You are big enough." "And ugly enough," growled Chumbley. "You'll soon get sunburned out here in the jungle. Hail, Rajah Chumbley! Thy servant bends the knee." "You be blowed!" said the young officer, speaking like a schoolboy; and the tone of his voice showed so much vexation that Hilton checked his banter. "I'm going to have one pipe," said Chumbley, "and then I shall have a nap." "Stop a minute," said Hilton. "What did she mean about Helen being another's wife?" he continued, biting at his moustache--"not that I care." "Goodness knows, unless Murad has carried her off at the same time." "_What_!" "I say unless Murad has been playing the same game." "Don't talk like that," panted Hilton. "I don't care a _sou_ for the girl now; I wouldn't marry her to save my life; I couldn't after her base treatment. But Chum, old fellow, that idea of yours is like a lance thrust through me, for I did love her, and to come to that--Oh, Heaven help her! I could not bear that." "Oh, tush! tush!" said Chumbley, sitting up once more. "Don't take any notice. An angry woman will say anything. It was only a fancy of mine. It can't be true."