This disgrace did not cure Moukounj of his weakness; on the contrary, he fell into the way of drinking more and more. At last, avoided by everyone, turned out of every household, despised by the other Brahmans, he finally sank to beggary, and tramped about the country, thankful to take any sort of work that offered. He had been a Cook; he had been a Stone-mason—but everywhere his fault prevented him from remaining any length of time.
At present he was engaged most of the time in helping the Navvies and the Stevedores, and he lived on very meagre wages, the greater portion of which he spent for that yellow liquor which the Europeans call "Eau-de-Vie" ("Water-of-Life")—why I do not know, for it seems to me that, far from giving them life, it slowly kills them!...
Thanks to me, Moukounj was now a little better off; he hired me out to carry heavy burthens, and himself to carry light ones; and the coarse vegetables he bought to feed me cost but very little.
Our life was very monotonous. If we found ourselves in a city where Moukounj could not find work—we left, and wandered on till we found something to do.
Moukounj was, on the whole, not a bad fellow—always ready to be useful where he could—the way he had received me was proof of this! He was jolly and good-natured, and loved to remember and recite the fine speeches he had learned at Lahore. But when drunk his disposition changed; he grew irritable; he became ugly and violently angry; he quarrelled with his fellow-workmen, and went so far as to beat me.
I certainly was not happy. When the work I was employed in seemed too humiliating, and when Moukounj lashed me with blows—I suffered bitterly. But why rebel? Things might be worse—so I submitted.
I thought constantly of my old life, wondering what had become of the lovely Parvati; did the Prince love her?... Was she happy?... Did she ever remember me?...
I tried to frame replies to these questions that would be as comforting as possible, and these thoughts softened somewhat my sorrows.
I never could tell you the names of all the cities we saw, all the rivers I crossed, the mountains I climbed with Moukounj. I remember one French city where I helped to build a palace for the Governor; I also carried the rails for a tramway they were building just outside of Madras. I did much other work of about the same kind, and I passed several years in this wandering and monotonous existence.
