I had just lain down on the mattress spread out on the floor and had lighted a cigarette after ordering a cup of tea, when a servant entered and respectfully informed me that the baiji desired to have an interview with me. This was what I was hoping for.
'Why does she wish to see me?' I asked.
'I do not know, sir.'
'Who are you?'
'I am her butler, sir.'
'Are you a Bengali?'
'Yes, sir, paramanik[1] by caste. My name is Ratan, sir.'
'Is the baiji a Hindu?'
'Should I, sir, have served under her otherwise?' Ratan answered smiling.
Ratan accompanied me as far as his mistress's tent and after showing me the entrance disappeared. Raising the curtain I went in and saw that the baiji awaited me alone. The dancer's gown and scarf[2] that she had worn on the previous night had deceived me, but now I had no difficulty in seeing that, whoever she might be, she was a Bengali. She sat, dressed in a silk sari, on a carpet of great value. On seeing me enter, she got up and, indicating a seat with a smile, said, 'Please sit down. No, I won't smoke before you. Ratan, take this hookah away! Why, won't you sit down?'
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