Again he had not found the house of Adinda. Again he flew back and suddenly stood still, seized his head with both his hands to press away the madness that overcame him, and cried aloud—
“Drunk, drunk; I am drunk!”
And the women of Badoer came out of their houses, and saw with sorrow poor Saïdjah standing there, for they knew him, and understood that he was looking for the house of Adinda, and they knew that there was no house of Adinda in the village of Badoer.
For, when the district chief of Parang-Koodjang had taken away Adinda’s father’s buffaloes. . . .
I told you, reader! that my narrative was monotonous.
. . . . Adinda’s mother died of grief, and her baby sister died because she had no mother, and had no one to suckle her. And Adinda’s father, who feared to be punished for not paying his land-taxes. . . .
I know, I know that my tale is monotonous.
. . . . had fled out of the country; he had taken Adinda and her brothers with him. But he had heard how the father of Saïdjah had been punished at Buitenzorg with stripes for leaving Badoer without a passport. And, therefore, Adinda’s father had not gone to Buitenzorg, nor to the Preangan, nor to Bantam. He had gone to Tjilang-kahan, the quarter of Lebak bordering on the sea. There he had concealed himself in the woods, and waited for the arrival of Pa Ento, Pa Lontah, Si Oeniah, Pa Ansive,
