India 2001 books

With the wife one was always sure--she
had a snub nose. On this occasion the major furiously boxed the Austrian
prisoner coachman's ears, telling us that he was the best he had ever
had. The unfortunate driver was a picture of rueful pleasure. The two
plump dears stood waving four plump hands till we had rumbled round the
corner of the landscape.
In the train to Nish it was intensely hot. We had sixteen or seventeen
fellow-passengers in our third-class wooden-seated carriage--all the
firsts had been removed, because they could not be disinfected--and the
windows, with the exception of two, had been screwed tightly down. Every
time we stood up to look at the landscape somebody slipped into our
seat, and we were continually sitting down into unexpected laps.
Expostulations, apologies, and so on. Somebody had gnawed a piece from
one of the wheels, and we lurched through the scenery with a banging
metallic clangour which made conversation difficult, in spite of which
Jo astonished the natives by her colloquial and fluent Serbian.


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