"My sister Thieng implored the king in vain to spare my life. My poor mother and father were prostrated with grief. As for Boon, she never uttered a single word, except, in answer to my inquiries if she were suffering much, she said very gently, 'Chan cha lah pi thort' (Let me say farewell, dear). Her pallor had become extreme, but her cheeks still burned; all the beauty of her spirit trembled on her closed eyelids. She appeared as one almost divine.
"On Sunday morning at four o'clock the faithful and matchless Boon was taken from our cell to undergo the sentence pronounced upon her and her husband. The day appointed for my execution, which was to be private, arrived, and I had no wish to live, now that P'haya P'hi Chitt and Boon were gone; but the women who attended me said that no preparations were as yet made for it. I wondered why I was permitted to live so long.
"After two weeks of cruel waiting to join my beloved Boon, I was removed to another cell, where my sister visited me, with the good Princess Somawati, her daughter, at whose earnest request, as I was told, the British Consul[28] had pleaded so effectually with the king that my life had been granted to his petition.
"Alas! it was Boon who deserved to live, and not I. I am not grateful for a life that is little better than a curse to me. God sees that I speak the truth. Woe still hovers over me. It is the doom of guilt committed in some former lifetime. I am an outcast here, and in this world I have no part, while every day only lengthens out my life of sorrow."
Here the poor girl broke off, laid her head on the table, and wept, as I never saw a human being weep, great tears of agony and remorse.
As soon as Choy left me, I hurried home and wrote down her narrative word for word, as nearly as I could; but I encountered then, as always, the almost insuperable difficulty of finding a fit clothing for the fervid Eastern imagery in our colder and more precise English.
RUNGEAH, THE CAMBODIAN PROSELYTE.