"Hi! Cliattak-wallah! Bheestee!—Hi! hi!—You chap with the umbrella, you fellow with the water, clear the way! This Baboo comes, this Baboo rides,—he stops not, he stays not,—he is rich, he is honored. Shall a pig impede him? Shall a pig delay him? Jump, sooa. Jump!"
And thus, amid much vociferation, and unceremonious dispersing of the common herd, who dodge with practised agility right and left, the fat and elaborate coachman pulls up the spanking Arabs at our godown gate, and the Baboo alights with the air of a gentleman of thirty lachs, to the manner born; to him all this outcry is but Mamoul,—usage, custom,—and Mamoul is to him as air.
As the Baboo steps through the wide swinging gate and enters the place that owns him master, let us mark his reception. The durwan first,—our grenadier doorkeeper, the man of proud port and commanding presence, to whom that portal is a post of honor,—our Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, in one, of courage, strength, and address enlisted with fidelity. The loyalty of Ramee Durwan is threefold, in this order: first, to his caste, next, to his beard, and then to his post; only for the two first would he abandon the last; his life he holds of less account than either.
As the Baboo passes, Ramee Durwan, you think, will be ready with profound and obsequious salaam. Not so; he draws himself up to the very last of his extraordinary inches, and touches his forehead lightly with the fingers of his right hand, only slightly inclining his head,—a not more than affable salute,—almost with a quality of concession,—gracious as well as graceful; he would do as much for any puppy of a cadet who might drop in on the Sahib. On the other hand, lowly louteth the Baboo, with eyes downcast and palm applied reverentially to his sleek forehead.
How now? This Baboo is a banyan of solid substance, and the Mullicks all are citizens of credit and renown; while Ramee Durwan gets five rupees a month, and makes his bed at the gate. Last year, they say, when little Dwarkanath Mullick, the Baboo's adopted son, nine years old, was married to the tender child Vinda, old Lulla Seal's darling, on her fifth birthday, the Baboo Kalidas Raniaya Mullick made the occasion famous by liberating fifty prisoners-for-debt, of the Soodra sort, with as many flourishes of his illustrious signature. Ramee Durwan has not a change of turbans.
And now the Baboo passes into the godown, and receives from a score of servile cicars, glibbest of clerks, their several reports of the day's business. Presently, from his low desk, in the lowliest corner, uprises, and comes forward quietly, Mutty Loll Roy, the head circar, venerable, placid, pensive, every way interesting; but he is only the Baboo's head circar, an humble accountant, on fifteen rupees a month. Do you perceive that fact in the style of his salutation? Hardly; for the Baboo piously raises his joined hands high above his head, and, louting lower than before, murmurs the Orthodox salutation, Namaskarum! Yet the Baboo contributed two thousand rupees in fireworks to the last Doorga Fooja, and sent a hundred goats to the altar; while only with many and trying shifts of saving could Mutty Loll afford gold leaf for one image, besides two tomtoms and a horn to march before it in procession. But behold the lordly beneficence in Mutty Loll's attitude and gesture, as with outstretched hands, palms upward, he greets the Baboo condescendingly with a gift of goodwill!
"Idhur ano, Sirdar, idhur ano!—Come hither, Karlee, my gentle bearer, thou of the good heart and gray moustache! Come hither, and enlighten this Sahib's ignorance; tell him why the Durwan is disdainful, as toward the Baboo, and the Circar solemn."
"Man, Sahib! That Durwan Ksutriye, Soldier caste, Rider caste,— feest-i-rat-i-man (first-rate man); that Durwan have got Rajpoot blood, ver-iproud, all same Sahib. Baboo, Merchant caste,— ver-i-good caste, plenty rich, but not so proud Durwan caste; Baboo not have Rajpoot blood, not have i-sharp i-sword, not have musiket. Durwan arm all same tiger; Durwan beard all same lion; Durwan plenty i-strong, plenty proud.
"That Circar,—ah! that Mutty Loll, too, high caste; that Circar Brahmin,—Kooleen Brahmin,—all same Swamy (god); that Circar foot all same Baboo head; that Circar shoe all same Baboo turban. 'Spose Baboo not make that Circar bhote-btote salaam, that Circar say curse, that Circar ispeak jou-jehannam (go to hell). Master und-istand i-me? I ispeak Master so Master know?"
"Very clear, Karlee,—and wholesome expounding. But here comes the Baboo to speak for himself.—Good-day, Baboo! Whither so fast with the spanking Arabs and the Simpkin?—to the garden-house?"