"Mam," she said, suddenly, laying her hand upon my arm, "what would you do if you were in my place and like me?" "Like you, Choy? I don't quite understand you; you must explain yourself before I can answer you." "Listen, then," she said, passionately, "and I will tell you." "When I was hardly ten years old,--O, it seems such a long, long time ago!--my mother presented me, her favorite child, as a dancing-girl, to his Majesty. I was immediately handed over to that vicious old woman, Khoon Som Sak, who was at that time the chief teacher of the dramatic art in the palace. She is very clever, and knows all the ancient epic poems by heart, especially the Rāmāyānā, which his Majesty delighted to see dramatized. "Under her tuition we were subjected to the most rigorous training, mentally and physically; we were compelled to leap and jump, to twist and contort our bodies, and bend our arms, fingers, and ankles in every direction, till we became so supple that we were almost like young canes of rattan, and could assume any posture the old hag pleased. Then we had to learn long passages from all sorts of poets by heart, with perfect correctness, for if we ever forgot even a single word, or did not put it in its right place, we were severely beaten. What with recitations, singing, dancing, playing, and beating time with our feet, we had a hard life of it; and it was no play for our instructress either, for there were seventy of us girls to be initiated into all the mysteries of the Siamese drama. "At length, with some half-dozen of my companions, I was pronounced perfect in the art, and was permitted to enter my name among the envied few who played and danced and acted before the king. "I would not have you think that the tasks imposed upon me were always irksome, or that I have always felt so depressed and unworthy as I do now. The study of the poets, and above all of the Rāmāyānā, opened to me a new world as it were; and it was a great gain to have even this, with the half-smothered yearning for life in the outer world that it inspired. It helped me to live in a world of my own creation, a world of love, music, and song. Rama was my hero, and I imagined myself the fair and beautiful Sita, his wife. I particularly delighted to act that part of the poem describing Rama's expedition to Lanka[9] to rescue Sita from the tyrant Râwânâ, and their delicious meeting in the garden, where Rama greets her with those beautiful lines,-- 'O, what joy! abundant treasures I have won again to-day, O, what joy! Of Sita Yanee[10] Now the hard-won prize is mine. O, what joy! again thou livest, within this breast. So mighty, armed with love, and with the wealth of heaven beyond[11] Soon shall Sita, Indara's fairest daughter, Stand by my side, as stands her matchless mother, Aspārā, in heaven refulgent by the great Indara.'