has thought too often of such as her—of the fair-skin women with whom he play tennis at Oxford. At least, soon after she goes the Soesoehoenan put away all his wives—even, and most of all, Alarna. Alarna gives no complaint; she gives no cry, no protest like the others. She is so proud; but no doubt, like the others, she weeps often in the night with jealousy of loving. She has not lost desire to be love. But nothing shows—nothing; only now, I remember, the little Ukano, the little clever, quick monkey, he is said to have escape—he is gone. So, without doubt, she made this clever plan as has been said. Rather than be put away she will destroy all things—the power, the throne—even the Soesoehoenan! The Surakarta—the great emerald in its box—is guarded always by men who will lose life before they
