av the forces inside was this way.  The Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun—­that was me—­lay by the favour av Providence on the far left flank behind the dhark av a pillar carved with elephints’ heads.  The remainder av the palanquins was in a big half circle facing in to the biggest, fattest, an’ most amazin’ she-god that iver I dreamed av.  Her head ran up into the black above us, an’ her feet stuck out in the light av a little fire av melted butter that a priest was feedin’ out av a butter-dish.  Thin a man began to sing an’ play on somethin’ back in the dhark, an ’twas a queer song.  Ut made my hair lift on the back av my neck.  Thin the doors av all the palanquins slid back, an’ the women bundled out.  I saw what I’ll niver see again.  ’Twas more glorious than thransformations at a pantomime, for they was in pink an’ blue an’ silver an’ red an’ grass green, wid di’monds an’ im’ralds an’ great red rubies all over thim.  But that was the least part av the glory.  O bhoys, they were more lovely than the like av any loveliness in hiven; ay, their little bare feet were betther than the white hands av a lord’s lady, an’ their mouths were like puckered roses, an’ their eyes were bigger an’ dharker than the eyes av any livin’ women I’ve seen.  Ye may laugh, but I’m speakin’ truth.  I niver saw the like, an’ niver I will again.’

’Seeing that in all probability you were watching the wives and daughters of most of the Kings of India, the chances are that you won’t,’ I said, for it was dawning on me that Mulvaney had stumbled upon a big Queens’ Praying at Benares.

‘I niver will,’ he said mournfully.  ’That sight doesn’t come twist to any man.  It made me ashamed to watch.  A fat priest knocked at my door.  I didn’t think he’d have the insolince to disturb the Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun, so I lay still.  “The old cow’s asleep,” sez he to another.  “Let her be,” sez that. “’Twill be long before she has a calf!” I might ha’ known before he spoke that all a woman prays for in Injia—­an’ for matter o’ that in England too—­is childher.  That made me more sorry I’d come, me bein’, as you well know, a childless man.’

He was silent for a moment, thinking of his little son, dead many years ago.

‘They prayed, an’ the butter-fires blazed up an’ the incense turned everything blue, an’ between that an’ the fires the women looked as tho’ they were all ablaze an’ twinklin’.  They took hold av the she-god’s knees, they cried out an’ they threw themselves about, an’ that world-without-end-amen music was dhrivin’ thim mad.  Mother av Hiven! how they cried, an’ the ould she-god grinnin’ above thim all so scornful!  The dhrink was dyin’ out in me fast, an’ I was thinkin’ harder than the thoughts wud go through my head—­thinkin’ how to get out, an’ all manner of nonsense as well.  The women were rockin’ in rows, their di’mond belts clickin’, an’ the tears runnin’ out betune their hands, an’ the lights were goin’ lower an’ dharker.  Thin there was a blaze like lightnin’ from the roof, an’ that showed me the inside av the palanquin, an’ at the end where my foot was, stood the livin’ spit an’ image o’ mysilf worked on the linin’.  This man here, ut was.’