PAULA LOVED PEARLS
Paula didn’t care for diamonds.
Or rubies.
Or emeralds.
She only cared for pearls.
And her feeling was more than mere admiration.
It was—love.
Passionate love.
But she could not afford to have pearls to wear.
So she had to be content to have pearls to look at.
She used to stand in front of the jewellers’ windows where there were pearls displayed.
The rings delighted her.
The brooches bewildered her.
But the necklaces distracted her.
She used to gaze at them.
She used to gloat over them.
And then she would go home—relieved.
But not satisfied.
In her bedroom Paula had pictures on the walls.
Many were studies of women wearing pearls.
Empresses and actresses.
In her bedroom Paula had books on the tables.
Many were volumes treating of pearls.
Their formation and their history.
Often Paula would go to sleep at night reading one of these books.
Or looking at one of these pictures.
Then she would dream that she had pearls of her own.
Plenty of them.
And she would be happy.
So you see that Paula had a mania.
But she also had a husband.
Her husband didn’t have any money.
But he had a position.
A position with an exporting concern.
This concern did business in the Far East.
So a time came when Paula’s husband was sent to the Orient.
And when Paula’s husband went there—he took Paula with him.
They went to Japan.
And to China.
And to India.
In India Paula saw strange things.
She saw the Hindoos bathing in the sacred Ganges.
She saw the Parsees exposing their dead to the vultures.
And she saw fakirs making mango trees grow out of seeds before one’s very eyes.
And in India Paula heard strange things, too.
She heard of strange lives.
And of strange deaths.
And she heard of the Rajah of Raboda who owned the finest pearls in the world.
He was said to have pearl necklaces yards long.
And pearl pendants the size of walnuts.
And he was said to be willing and glad to display these treasures to any visitors who cared to journey to his palace in the hills to see them.
Paula told her husband of these things.
He was not interested.
Paula asked her husband to take her to Raboda.
He declined.
Paula asked her husband if she might go there alone.
He consented.
So Paula got a letter of introduction from the Consul.
And she started for the hills.
Paula arrived at the Palace.
She presented her credentials.
And she was informed that she might see the pearls.
An attendant escorted her through corridors and courts, into an apartment where, in a glass case under iron bars, were displayed the objects that Paula loved.
Loved with all her heart.
And with all her soul....
Paula stood there transfixed with ecstasy.
She stood there—she knew not how long.
And then she became conscious that someone was standing beside her.
Someone was watching her.
Paula looked up.
She found herself facing a tall man wearing a green satin robe and a lavender silk turban.
Around his neck was a string of pearls.
In his turban was a clasp of pearls.
And in his eyes—was a strange expression....
“I am the Rajah of Raboda,” said the man.
“Oh!” said the woman.
“These pearls are mine,” said the man.
“They are marvellous!” said the woman.
“You like pearls?” said the man.
“I—love—them!” said the woman.
It really was a strange thing that Paula had not made a more advantageous marriage than she had done.
Her husband was not of much account.
And Paula was—quite a beauty.
Her complexion was dark.
Her hair was black and glossy.
Her eyes were black and fiery.
And her lips were full and red.
She was just the type to appeal to an American millionaire.
Or—to an Indian Prince.
But Paula had never met an American millionaire.
And she had never met an Indian Prince—before....
She looked at the face of the Rajah.
His skin was black.
But his hair and his eyes were no blacker than her own.
If she only looked into his eyes, he might have been a mate for her.
If he only looked into her eyes she might have been a mate for him.
And now he did look into her eyes.
And now she did look into his....
Paula loved pearls.
And the Rajah loved—women.
The Rajah had pearls.
And Paula was—a woman.
So they stood side by side.
And they stared at one another.
Then the Rajah showed Paula more pearls.
He conducted her about the palace.
He offered her some refreshments.
And he invited her to be his guest over night.
Paula accepted his attentions.
And his invitation.
She wondered if she were asleep.
And if this were a dream.
One of those marvellous dreams of hers.
She had imagined it all so often before.
But no, this was not a vision!
It was a reality!
She was the guest of an Indian Prince.
The Prince had the finest pearls in the world.
And he—liked her.
She appealed to him.
So Paula—thought, and thought, and thought....
That night the Rajah put on even more gorgeous robes than he had worn during the day.
And even more splendid pearls.
Paula forgot to look at his black face.
She forgot to think of it.
She only looked at his white pearls.
She couldn’t think of anything else.
The Rajah told Paula of how his ancestors had obtained these pearls from afar.
How they had sought for them.
How they had fought for them.
This one had been in the eye of a Buddha.
That one had been the cause of a battle.
And so on, and on, and on....
Then he stopped speaking of—pearls.
And he started speaking of—her.
His voice softened.
His eyes brightened
And at last—he said it.
He was a prince.
He possessed pearls.
He—loved—her!....
What did it matter?
Where was the harm?
What was a—husband?
What was—anything?
The Rajah held her hand in his.
There were pearls in the rings on his fingers.
The Rajah put his arm around her waist.
There were pearls in the bracelets on his wrists.
The Rajah crushed her to his breast.
There were pearls in the chains around his neck....
Paula returned to her husband.
She wore a string of pearls around her throat.
She gave her husband an explanation.
She said that she had bought the pearls in a shop.
She told him that they were imitation.
And he believed her.
And she despised him for it.
Poor fool!
He didn’t know the value of pearls.
But the Rajah of Raboda did.
And so did Paula!...