wanee."

"Yes! he is like us, a son of Kale!" added the Malay.

"He is like us, a Phansegar," said the Indian.

The three men, irritated at the horror which Djalma had manifested on
learning that they were Phansegars, took a savage pride in making
it believed that the son of Kadja-sing belonged to their frightful
association.

"What have you to answer?" said the officer to Djalma. The latter again
gave a look of disdainful pity, raised with his right hand his long,
wide left sleeve, and displayed his naked arm.

"What audacity!" cried the officer, for on the inner part of the fore
arm, a little below the bend, the name of the Bowanee, in bright red
Hindoo characters, was distinctly visible. The officer ran to the Malay,
and uncovered his arm; he saw the same word, the same signs. Not
yet satisfied, he assured himself that the negro and the Indian were
likewise so marked.

"Wretch!" cried he, turning furiously towards Djalma; "you inspire even
more horror than your accomplices. Bind him like a cowardly assassin,"
added he to the soldiers; "like a cowardly assassin, who lies upon the
brink of the grave, for his execution will not be long delayed."

Struck with stupor, Djalma, who for some moments had kept his eye
riveted on the fatal mark, was unable to pronounce a word, or make the
least movement: his powers of thought seemed to fail him, in presence of
this incomprehensible fact.

"Would you dare deny this sign?" said the officer to him, with
indignation.

"I cannot deny what I see--what is," said Djalma, quite overcome.

"It is lucky that you confess at last," replied the officer. "Soldiers,
keep watch over him and his accomplices--you answer for them."

Almost believing himself the sport of some wild dream. Djalma offered no
resistance, but allowed himself to be bound and removed with mechanical
passiveness. The officer, with part of his soldiers, hoped still to
discover Faringhea amongst the ruins; but his search was vain, and,
after spending an hour in fruitless endeavors, he set out for Batavia,
where the escort of the prisoners had arrived before him.

Some hours after these events, M. Joshua van Dael thus finished his long
despatch, addressed to M. Rodin, of Paris:

"Circumstances were such, that I could not act otherwise; and, taking
all into consideration, it is a very small evil for a great good. Three
murderers are delivered over to justice, and the temporary arrest of
Djalma will only serve t