'You will be surrounded,' said Tom hurriedly. 'Whip up your ponies and drive through them!' 'Not at all,' said Vivien. 'This is a piece of fun to me.' As she spoke the man whose action had provoked the disturbance drew himself up to his full height, gathered his chuddah about him, and having cast a glance of mingled hatred and scorn on the fair Englishwoman, took himself off. Vivien looked after him, laughing. 'That's the best specimen of a native I've seen yet,' she said. 'I wonder who he is. Doesn't he just hate me?' 'Is it wise, do you think, to make these people hate you?' said Tom. 'Wise or not, it's amusing,' said Vivien. 'But Beauty and Prince are impatient, and those two idiot syces of mine look half dead with fear. Aren't they a handsome pair, by the by? I mean the ponies, of course--not the syces. Come and see me, Tom. I live in Cantonments. Ask for Captain Doncaster of the 3rd Foot. Anyone will tell you where it is. You are staying some time longer?' 'Three or four days.' 'Then be sure to come. I'll introduce you to my husband, and show you my serpents.' 'Serpents!' echoed Tom. 'Yes; serpents. Funny pets, aren't they? But they amuse me. I cow them, and then pinch them, and watch them hiss and spit. I have a cobra; he is grand when he's in a rage. That man reminded me of him. Wouldn't he just sting if he had the chance?' 'The crowd is thinning. Now is your chance,' said Tom, standing away from the carriage. 'Good-bye, then, till to-morrow, shall we say?' said Vivien; and she drove off, leaving Tom more disgusted than he had ever felt before. He was thinking it all over in the evening, and wondering why he could not make up his mind never to see Vivien again, when, suddenly, the lean figure he had seen the previous night rose before him. 'My brother has come back, then?' said Tom kindly. 'I bid him welcome.' The man did not answer, even by a sign. He stood erect and rigid in the lighted space before the tent. 'Come in and rest,' said Tom, 'and I will call Ganesh, and he shall give you to eat and drink.' 'Rest!' cried the Brahmin bitterly, 'rest is for men, and I am no man. I am a dog, a creeping thing, to be spurned by the foot of the passer-by. If you have any pity, kill me!' 'My brother is raving,' said Tom pitifully. 'Fatigue and want are breaking his heart. When he has rested and eaten he will be glad of the good gift of life.' 'Does your Excellency speak like a sage now?' said the Brahmin, with a sombre derision in his voice. 'Does he know what he says when he calls life good? I tell him that it is not good--it is evil.' 'Life need not be evil unless we make it so.'