and, as they love their little ones dearly, they often live with the same woman all
the days of her life, since divorce entails some degree of separation from the
children.
Down country things are different. The gossip of the Court, the tales of brave
deeds, the learned discussions, or the rough sports add an interest to life, which
is not to be experienced by the dwellers in the far interior. The number of
unmarried women within the palace causes the youths of the town to plunge
wildly into intrigues, for which they often have to pay a heavy price, but which
always instil an element of romance into their lives. This, of course, is the merest
sketch, for no real study of the people can be attempted in a work written on
such unscientific lines as the present, and the reader—supposing such a
problematical person to exist—must form his own picture of my Malay friends
from the stories which I shall have to tell in future pages. It is only too probable
that I shall fail to give any real idea of the people of whom I write, to any save
those who are already able to fill in the omissions for themselves, and who,
therefore, know as much about Malays as is good for any man; but, if I fail, it
will be because I lack the skill to depict with vividness the lives of those whom I
know intimately, and whom, in spite of all their faults, and foibles, and
ignorance, and queer ways, I love exceedingly.