in two languages, a rush for the door; and the dramatic
interlude is over. But outside there are broken heads
and faces streaming with blood, and mariners who wish
they had kept out
of a hornets’ nest.
Episodes of this
kind, wh e t h e r
brought about by
an invasion from
w i t h o u t or a
quarrel within, are
not infrequent at
the play in Burma.
But they are episodes
with little
power to stay the^
declamations o f
royal councillors
and the posturings
of tireless prima-
donnas.
As the night
wears on men move
away from the
play to other haunts. Outside the little houses that
flank the more secluded streets there sit the painted
demi-monde, the women of half the world, from
Paris to Japan; and they drift here by successive
stages of decline, -raking up here the very lees of life.
There are other places, too, associated with the mid-
84
PA LM -TR E E S IN BLOOM
TH E STR AN D , LOOKING; OU T TO SEA
night life of the city : the haunts of the opium smoker,
where men lie as in a shambles, forgetful of time ; the
inner parlour of the Ah-Sin club, where fan is played,
and little cards are heaped with money on the tables.
But the life of a city at night is of endless variety,
and if it is undoubtedly interesting, it is somewhat
unsavoury to chronicle. The river is not open to the
same objection.
THE RIVER
On the dark road that winds between the Strand and
the river’s edge, all life seems stilled, save that of the
overshadowing palms which rustle in every breeze.
Behind me lies the city, with its brick avenues, its multitude
of lights, and its swarming populace. A few
yards ahead of the silence in which I am engulfed lies
85