lar.

On the south side of the courtyard containing the Silver Pagoda is a
relic far more precious in the eyes of the natives, however, than all
the royal treasures put together--a footprint of Buddha. It was left,
so the priests who guard it night and day reverently explain, by the
founder of their faith when he paid a flying visit to Cambodia. Over
the footprint has been erected a shrine with a floor of solid gold.
Buddha did not do as well by Cambodia as by Ceylon, however, for
whereas at Pnom-Penh he left the imprint of his foot, at Kandy he left
a tooth. I know, for I have seen it.

In an adjacent courtyard is the Throne Hall, a fine example of
Cambodian architecture, the gorgeous throne of the monarch standing on
a dais in the center of a lofty apartment decorated in gold and green.
Close by is the Salle des Fetes, or Dance Hall, a modern French
structure, where the royal ballet gives its performances. Ever since
there have been kings in Cambodia each monarch has chosen from the
daughters of the upper classes two hundred and forty showgirls and has
had them trained for dancing. These girls, many of whom are brought to
the palace by their parents when small children and offered to the
King, eventually enter the monarch's harem as concubines. Admission to
the royal ballet is to a Cambodian maiden what a position in the
Ziegfeld Follies is to a Broadway chorus girl. It is the blue ribbon of
female pulchritude. Unlike Mr. Ziegfeld's carefully selected beauties,
however, who frequently find the stage a stepping-stone to independence
and a limousine, the Cambodian show-girl, once she enters the service
of the King, becomes to all intents and purposes a prisoner. And
Sisowath, for all his eighty-odd years, is a jealous master. Never
again can she stroll with her lover in the fragrant twilight on the
palm-fringed banks of the Mekong. Never again can she leave the
precincts of the palace, save to accompany the King. The bars behind
which she dwells are of gold, it is true, but they are bars just the
same.

When I broached to the French Resident-Superior, who is the real ruler
of Cambodia, the subject of taking motion-pictures within the royal
enclosure, he was anything but encouraging.

"I'm afraid it's quite impossible," he told me. "The King is at his
summer palace at Kampot, where he will remain for several weeks.
Without his permission nothing can be done. Moreover, the royal
ballet, which is the most interesting