“Yes, Mr. Controller, it is the rainy season.”
Now Verbrugge knew this very well: it was January; but the Regent knew, too, what he had said about the rain. Then again there was silence. The Regent beckoned with a scarcely visible motion of the head to one of the servants that sat squatting at the entrance of the ‘pendoppo.’ A little boy, splendidly dressed in a blue velvet jacket and white trousers, with a golden girdle confining [[77]]his magnificent Sarong[1] round his waist, and on his head the pretty Kain Kapala,[2] under which his black eyes peeped forth so roguishly, crept squatting to the feet of the Regent, put down the gold box which contained the Sirie,[3] the lime, the pinang, the gambier,[4] and the tobacco, made his Slamat by raising both his hands put together to his forehead, as he bowed low, and then offered the precious box to his master.
“The road will be very difficult, after so much rain,” said the Regent, as if to explain the long pause, whilst he covered the betel-leaf with lime.
“In the Pandaglang the road is not so bad,” Verbrugge replied; who, unless he wanted to hint at something disagreeable, gave that answer certainly a little inconsiderately; for he ought to have taken into consideration that a Regent of Lebak does not like to hear the Pandaglang roads praised, even if they are much better than those of Lebak.
The Adhipatti did not make the mistake of replying too quickly. The little maas had already crept squatting backwards to the entrance of the ‘pendoppo,’ where he remained with his companions; the Regent had made his [[78]]lips and few remaining teeth red with the juice of his betel, before he said—
“Yes; Pandaglang is more populous.”
To one acquainted with the Regent and the Controller, to whom the state of Lebak was no secret, it would have been quite clear that the conversation had already become a quarrel. An allusion to the better state of the roads in a neighbouring province appeared to be the consequence of the fruitless endeavours to improve the roads in Lebak. But the Regent was right in saying that Pandaglang was more populous, above all things, in proportion to the much smaller surface, and that, of course, united power rendered labour on the great roads there much easier than in Lebak, a province which counted but seventy thousand inhabitants on a surface of some hundred miles.
“That is true,” said Verbrugge, “our population is not large, but——”
The Adhipatti looked at him, as if he expected an attack. He knew that “but” might be followed by something disagreeable for him to hear, who had been for thirty years Regent of Lebak. Verbrugge wished to end the conversation, and asked the ‘mandoor’ again if he saw nothing coming.
“I do not yet see anything from the Pandaglang side, Mr. Controller; but yonder on the other side there is somebody on horseback——it is the Commandant.”