row themselves under the wheels of
Juggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental
apparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed.
This woman was young, and as fair as a European. Her head and neck,
shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were loaded down with jewels and
gems with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered with
gold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of her
form.

The guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast to
her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, and
long damascened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It was
the body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a
rajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of
tissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, and
the magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince. Next came the musicians
and a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the
noise of the instruments; these closed the procession.

Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and, turning
to the guide, said, "A suttee."

The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The procession
slowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in
the depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionally
cries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.

Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the
procession had disappeared, asked: "What is a suttee?"

"A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but a
voluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned to-morrow
at the dawn of day."

"Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress his
indignation.

"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independent
rajah of Bundelcund."

"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not the
least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India, and
that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"

"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India," replied
Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories, and
especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of the
Vindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."

"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartou