India 2001 books

We rode fast to the Colonel's cottage, sat down to the dinner table,
which was decked with pale blue napkins, and a fine-looking old
Voukotitch, an ex-M.P. in national costume, acted as butler. In spite of
his seventy odd years he had joined the army as a common soldier. He
refused all invitations to sit with us, for he knew his place. The young
husband was his nephew, and they kissed fondly on leave-taking.
We rode back in the moonlight. At one spot on the road was a sawmill,
and the huge white pine logs lying all about looked like the fallen
columns of some ruined Athenian temple. We tried to enjoy the moment,
and to brush aside the awful thought that we must remount Rosinante and
Co. next day.
The Shadow was terribly puffed up about his feat. The following morning
as we were sketching in the town, an officer approached respectfully.
"His excellency the Sirdar invites you to supper," he said.
We considered a moment, for we had intended to return to Plevlie. The
Shadow broke in.


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