Free The Raj Quartet, Volume 1: The Jewel in the Crown: The Jewel in the Crown Vol 1 (Phoenix Fiction) by Paul Scott Page A

herself to the temptation to say things like, Don’t be silly; or, Nonsense. For some years now, though, she had not bothered to put a curb on her tongue, and wished she never had. When you chose your words the spontaneity went out of the things you wanted to say. She had learned to hate the feeling it gave her of unnaturalness. If she had always been as outspoken as she was now, she thought, then even if she had made enemies she might also have made friends. By developing self-confidence in the manner of her speech earlier in hercareer she believed she might have developed an inner confidence as well, the kind that communicated itself to people of another race as evidence of sincerity, trustworthiness. Too late for that, the outspokenness, she knew, often looked to Indians like the workaday thoughtless rudeness of any Englishwoman. Only Englishwomen themselves admired it, although with men like Mr. Narayan she could conduct a slanging match and feel no bones were broken. With Mr. Chaudhuri she found herself reverting to the soft phrase, the cautious sentiment, and then spoiling whatever effect this had had by letting slip words that came more easily to her. She had said Nonsense! to him early on in their association and had seen at once that her tenuous hold on his willingness to cooperate was temporarily lost. From this unfortunate setback they had never made much advance. If Mrs. Chaudhuri had been a more sophisticated woman Miss Crane felt she might have made progress with Mr. Chaudhuri through intimate contact with his wife, but apart from a High School education and her years spent at the feet of a music teacher, Mrs. Chaudhuri was uninstructed in the ways of the sophisticated world and had a remarkably old-fashioned notion of the role of a wife.
    Before Miss Crane set out in the Ford for Dibrapur on the morning of the 8th of August Joseph tried to dissuade her from going. He said there would be trouble. He had heard rumours.
    She said, “We are always hearing rumours. Does that stop you from doing your work? Of course not. I have work in Dibrapur. So to Dibrapur I must go.”
    He offered to come with her.
    “And who will look after the house, then?” she asked. “No, Joseph for both of us it is business as usual.”
    It was business as usual all the way to Dibrapur which she reached at four o’clock in the afternoon, having stopped on the way to eat her sandwiches and drink coffee from the flask. In the villages there were people who shouted Quit India! and others who asked for baksheesh. Driving slowly to avoid hitting cows and buffalo, dogs, hens and children, she smiled and waved at the people whatever they shouted.
    In Kotali, the last village before the schoolhouse, she stopped the car and spoke to some of the mothers whose children went to Mr. Chaudhuri for lessons. The mothers said nothing about trouble. She did not mention it herself. They would know better than she what was to beexpected. Kotali looked very peaceful. Leaving the village behind she met the children making their way home, carrying their food-tins and canvas bags. Their average age was eight. She stopped the car again and distributed some of the boiled sweets.
    Reaching the schoolhouse she drove into the compound. Here there were trees and shade. She found Mr. Chaudhuri tidying up the schoolroom. “Is there any news?” she asked, rather hoping that if trouble were coming and this were to be an eleventh hour it would be made productive of something more than politeness.
    “News?” he replied. “What sort of news, Miss Crane?”
    “Of the Congress vote.”
    “Oh, that,” he said. “No, I have not listened.”
    In the room of the schoolhouse that served as an office there was a radio. Sometimes Mr. Chaudhuri used the radio as a medium of instruction. She turned it on now. There was music. She switched off. It was European music. The only music she ever listened to when with the Chaudhuris was Indian classical music.
    “Perhaps,