The Siege of Krishnapur - J. G. Farrell [69]
By this time there was only a handful of native Christians left. They sat in the dust with their backs to one or other of the tamarind trees which made an imposing crescent of shade around the gates. They were silent, too, for one cannot keep on wailing or humming indefinitely, and they looked as if they had given up hope of being offered protection. There were also one or two money-lenders, known as bunniahs, who had come along to buy up the “certificates of loyalty” as a speculative investment, at a price which varied between four and eight annas at first, but which soon dropped to nothing for a rumour was going about that now, at last, the sepoys were making a definite move to crush the feringhees in the Residency; that very evening they would advance from Captainganj and take up positions to attack at dawn. Apart from the bunniahs there were, of course, the inevitable bystanders one finds everywhere in India, idly looking on, wherever there is anything of interest happening (and even where there is nothing) because they are too poor to have anything better to do, and the least sign of activity or purpose, even symbolic (a railway station without trains, for example), exerts a magnetic influence over them which nothing in their own devastated lives can counter.
The ragged group of native Christians received the sugar fruit from their little benefactors expressionlessly and in silence. But when the children had gone back into the enclave they wasted no time in throwing it into the ditch for, although Christians, many of them considered themselves to be Hindus as well, indeed primarily, and had no intention of being defiled like the sepoys with their greased cartridges.
Fleury had contrived to walk back with Louise and Fanny to the Dunstaples’ house. Because he was nervous of Louise he playfully tried to tease Fanny about what pretty dimples she had; but Fanny failed to respond and the teasing fell rather flat. To tell the truth, this was by no means the first time that Fanny had been used as a conversation piece by some lovesick suitor trying to get on a more relaxed footing with Louise, and she resented it. Presently she ran off, leaving Fleury feeling more awkward in Louise’s company than ever.
Disconcerted, Fleury said humbly: “I’m afraid I must apologize, Miss Dunstaple, for that disturbance during Sunday school...and as for the baby which you so wisely took from me, to be honest I’d quite forgotten I had it in my hands.”
“Really, Mr Fleury, there’s no need to apologize because there was no harm done, after all, though I must say that I do wonder if there is anything achieved by sending such young children to Sunday school.”
“I fear the Padre was angry with me for speaking out like that,” Fleury said. The rolls of fair curls which escaped from beneath Louise’s bonnet seemed to him so like a spaniel’s ear that, for a moment, he was able to imagine that it was not Louise but Chloë who was walking along beside him. Something told him, however, that it would not be a good idea to give Chloë to Louise, at least for the immediate future.
Louise was surveying him with a gentle frown. “I’m sure you’re right, Mr Fleury, to plead for love rather than calculation to order our lives but...forgive me if I speak frankly...should you not also give a thought to the distress you are causing the poor Padre Sahib with your views?”
“My dear Miss Louise! I should never for a moment wish to cause distress to the Padre Sahib. But think how important it is that we should find the right way to lead our lives! And it is only by argument that we can find the right way...There is no other way to find the truth.”
“Alas,” said Louise, looking sad, “I sometimes wonder whether we shall ever find the right way. I wonder whether we shall ever live together in harmony, one class with another, one race with another...Will not the labouring classes