"Siegoh! I have come!"
The Indian woman, instead of returning my greeting by the customary repetition, "You have come," made no reply. Then I petted the cow: the Indian woman's yellow and saddened face showed signs of softening. I was touched by these mysterious relations of misfortune: there is sweetness in lamenting ills that none have lamented beside.
My hostess looked at me a little longer, with a remnant of doubt lingering in her eyes, and then came forward and passed her hand over the forehead of her companion in misery and solitude. Encouraged by this mark of confidence, I said in English, for I had exhausted my Indian:
"She is very lean."
The Indian woman replied, in broken English:
"She eats very little."
"They drove her away roughly," I added.
And the woman replied:
"We are both accustomed to that."
I asked: