He moved restlessly and tried to say something.
“Money!” she repeated with scorn. “I knew you would say that! Money! Oyah! A pool of filth where men are defiled and drowned—bah!” She stamped her little foot fretfully, and threw the pearls on the floor.
“Would you let wealth all run away?” he asked pathetically.
“Does not a running stream irrigate more fields than a pond? Is there not more purity in a brook than in a stagnant pool?”
His Excellency sighed deeply.
“Why don’t you learn other economy?” She leaned over him, pouting her red lips like a teasing child. “Why don’t you be economical of punishments, wasteful of mercy, and treat greed as a rogue? Because, my husband,” and taking hold of his ears, she tilted his head back, “I think whoever is a miser in punishments and a spendthrift of compassion, not only hoards up inestimable treasure, but practises the economy of heaven.”
“That is true,” mumbled the Viceroy, thickly, “very——”
“It is not!” she interrupted, letting go his ears and stamping her foot.
“Not true?”
“It never happens.”