CHAPTER XLII.
Each person is born to one possession which outvalues all his others--his last breath.
-- Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.
Toward midnight, that night, there was another function.

This was a Hindoo wedding--no, I think it was a betrothal ceremony.

Always before, we had driven through streets that were multitudinous and tumultuous with picturesque native life, but now there was nothing of that.

We seemed to move through a city of the dead.

There was hardly a suggestion of life in those still and vacant streets.