CHAPTER X.
I RECOGNIZE THE NEST-ROBBERS.
Very warm was the welcome I received from our host, the head-man of the village, and his daughter, the “handsome one.” They met us at the door of their house, and were both very curious to learn the story of my escape, for neither had expected to see me again in the flesh. Following them into the principal reception-room, I intended to repeat to them the substance of what I had told my brother and Prabu; but guess my surprise at seeing, squatting upon the floor, two of my unpleasant acquaintances, the cave-robbers; and by Prabu’s countenance and manner, as he introduced these men to me as “the strong one” and “the weak one,” I saw that he fully comprehended the meaning of my start and surprise.
These two worthies, I found, had heard from their father and sister the story of my being lost, and were earnest in their requests that I would tell them my adventures; and I am afraid, I must confess, that I found myself necessitated to fib myself out of the difficulty: for I told them that the chasm was no great depth after all, but that, falling head foremost, I had been stunned, and that on coming to, I managed to clamber up again, but then lost my way among the intricate passages, where I had been ultimately discovered by Prabu; who, by the way, did not evince the least surprise, either by word or gesture, at a story so different from that which I had told him, and by which I now felt convinced he understood that the cave-robbers and the men before us were identical. But Martin looked the very picture of astonishment: however—as an instant’s reflection upon the fact that I had made no allusion whatever to the cave-robbers told him that a strong reason existed for the discrepancy—he said nothing.
At the conclusion of my story, I expected that Prabu would, in some shape or other, have broached the subject of nest-gathering; but he was too much engaged, for he was talking soft nothings to the “handsome one,” and reciting, in tones not much above a whisper, the stock poem of all Javanese lovers—which, by the way, is sufficiently curious, and in English prose runs thus:—
“When my mistress looks forth from her window, her eye sparkling like a star, its brilliant rays glancing and glittering, her elder brother cannot support its luster. Like the red mango is the hue of her cheek, becoming her tapering neck, traversed with shadows whenever she swallows. Her features like those of a shadow or scenic figure; her forehead like the new moon in its first day; her eyebrows curved so fair I could devour her. Long has she been chosen to be my mistress,—wearing a ring set with gems of Sailan,—her long nails shining like lightning transparent as a string of pearls;—her waist slender and extremely elegant,—her neck turned like a polished statue. Eloquent in the enunciation of her words. Her parting words like the crimson red wood; not by dress, but by herself adorned. Black are her teeth stained with Baja powder. Graceful, slender, appearing like a queen. Her locks adorned with the Saraja flowers; her features beautiful, with no defect of symmetry. My soul is often fluttering, ready to depart; glancing eagerly forth from my eyes, and quite unable to return to its station.”
When, however, the young lady had retired, Prabu entered into a conversation with his future brothers-in-law, from which I found that, in addition to other open-air occupations, they were gatherers of bees-nests, for the purpose of collecting the wax, a commodity much sought after by the Chinese merchants.
“My brothers have toiled long and hard these two days; have they been fortunate?” Prabu asked.
“Our elder brother’s words are good,” replied the “strong one;” “we have toiled long and hard, and have been rewarded by lucky days.”
“Then my brothers have been fortunate, and their house is filled with wax.”
“The worthy Prabu is right,” replied the “weak one,” but wincing a little, I thoughts at the words, “we have been fortunate.”