Free The Temple Dancer by John Speed

while you were still kissing some
idol's plaster ass!" With that the eunuch drained his glass, and with an attempted dignity stumbled from the room. As the waiter shut the door behind
him, they heard a great clatter from the hall beyond, but no one moved.
    Fernando whipped a kerchief from his sleeve and patted his dark forehead, then pressed the cloth to his lips as he regained his composure. The
gesture was so perfectly European that Geraldo nearly laughed out loud.
"Insolent hijra!" Ferando's delicate fingers pressed the kerchief back to his
sleeve. "As if he knew anything about my beloved Lord Jesus Christ."
    "But he does, you see," Pathan said softly. "He is a Muslim, though
he drinks. You must certainly know that we Muslims hold Jesus in great reverence." But a glance at the others made it clear that none of them
knew any such thing.

    "Is this true?" Fernando asked Da Gama.
    "How would I know, senhor? But this fellow is a burak, and a prince as
well, and I have never heard him lie."
    Pathan turned to Fernando. "Does not your faith teach forgiveness, sir?
Here is a chance for you to forgive. That mule hunni ... that hijra as you call
him ... lives a life that might be pitied. Stolen from mother and home, cruelly maimed when he was child. He has no home, no family. All his life he
lives with women, cleaning them, dressing them, doing all their bidding. Can
we be surprised that he acted so foolishly here? What does he know of the
company of men? Rather it is for us men to pity him and forgive."
    Fernando stared at Pathan. Perhaps he hoped to find a flaw in his
words, so he might reveal his better knowledge of the love of Christ.
    But he found no flaw. At last Fernando raised his hands to his forehead. "You are right, sir. He was not ready to accept the treasure I tried to
offer him. His is the greater loss. I will forgive." Fernando sat again, and
slowly the dinner went on.

    While Maya went out to find Da Gama, Lucinda changed into her dressing
gown. Helene had thoughtfully folded it at the top of her trunk. It had
been hard to take off her dress and unlace her corset by herself, and
Lucinda now very much regretted sending Helene away.
    But thinking of the incident in Goa brought the memory of Pathan's
eyes, lustrous and troubling; a memory she quickly set aside.
    After Maya returned, servants came in with lit candles, and unrolled a
linen sheet over one of the colorful rugs near the wall. Not long after, Silvia
entered, a short round woman wearing a Portuguese dress. Her black hair,
shot with gray, she wore in long braid wrapped into a bun. She had a wedding ring, but around her neck she also wore a Hindi's marriage necklace.
    She saw Lucinda first and smiled, friendly but nervous. But before she
greeted her visitors, Silvia made a slow circuit of the room, pausing for a
moment near the puja table. Lucinda watched as Silvia's fingers darted from
her lips, to the silver crucifix, then to her heart. After that she namskared to each of her guests, and then, with an awkward flouncing of her skirts, sat
beside them.

    "It is an honor and blessing to welcome my sister Lucinda to this
house," Silvia said in halting Portuguese.
    "It is a blessing and honor to be here, my sister in Christ," Lucinda answered. Then she said in Hindi, "But we must be thoughtful of our companion." She nodded to Maya.
    Silvia's expression changed to one of surprise and relief. "My husband
told me you spoke Hindi, but I thought that he was joking." The idea of
Brother Fernando joking with his wife had never crossed Lucinda's mind.
Silvia leaned toward Maya. "A Christian woman who speaks like a civilized person. How remarkable."
    "She is remarkable in many ways," Maya answered. Lucinda felt her
cheeks burn as the women looked at her.
    But Silvia seemed to have a question that would not wait. She turned to
Maya, her eyes round and wide. "Are you truly a devadasi?"
    Maya shrugged. "Whatever I was once is in the past."
    "You