“I think, among them, they all keep you up to the mark,” observed Mrs. Gregory, and whatever she was about to add was abruptly interrupted by a loud, swelling, unanimous murmur of “Ah Wah, Ah Wah,” which suddenly rose from a thousand throats. This rapturous acclamation hailed the appearance of Po Sine, the star of the Burmese theatre—unsurpassed and unapproachable in either tragedy or comedy. Po Sine was nothing to look at—a thin, ordinary, little man, but endowed with genius; even those who could not understand a word he said immediately recognised the great actor.
This particular play was a favourite comedy; shouts of laughter shook the audience and the encompassing walls of matting, and in this Shafto and his companion could not help joining.
“I wonder what it is all about,” said Sophy. “I know it’s very amusing. What was that funny thing he said last?” she asked as the shrieks died down.
Shafto coloured guiltily. Although far from being an expert in the Burmese language, he had caught the drift of this sentence—a coarse double entendre, which he could not possibly interpret to a girl. Burmese plays are not always decorous; this particular performance was an odd mixture of ancient and modern. The lovers, who were, as usual, princes and princesses, played stately roles and moved about with majestic dignity and in gorgeous raiment—their prototypes dated from the days of Buddha; on the other hand, the clown and the country men, who enacted the parts of villains and devils, were essentially modern—as quick with patter songs and up-to-date local events and jokes as the cleverest music-hall artist. At intervals the weird Burmese band, with its clashing cymbals, harps and clarions, discoursed the latest Burmese operatic airs.
It was one o’clock and the great bell in the heart of the Pagoda had throbbed out its long deep note, when Mrs. Gregory rose and collected her party.
“I’m so sorry I can’t take you with me,” she said to Sophy. “I hope your German friends will not remain all night. However, I shall depute Mr. Shafto to look after you. Please tell your aunt that I hope to call and see her very shortly—and do not forget that you are to ride with me on Thursday morning.”
As if it was likely! Then Mrs. Gregory took her departure, leaving Sophy and her companion to a tête-à-tête.
“I think we will move up closer to your friends,” he said; “I see two empty seats behind them. Our people can’t stick this for more than three or four hours.”
“How have you been getting on?” inquired Sophy, “and how do you like Burma?”
“Burma suits me down to the ground; I like it most awfully. I’ve been very busy learning my job, but I’ve seen a good deal outside business hours.”