But whenever Desmond encountered the stranger, strolling by himself in
the fields or some quiet lane, Diggle always seemed pleased to see him,
and talked to him with the same ease and freedom, ever ready with a tag
from his school books. Desmond did not like his Latin, but he found
compensation in the traveler's tales of which Diggle had an inexhaustible
store--tales of shipwreck and mutiny, of wild animals and wild men, of
Dutch traders and Portuguese adventurers, of Indian nawabs and French
bucaneers. Above all was Desmond interested in stories of India: he heard
of the immense wealth of the Indian princes, the rivalries of the
English, French, and Dutch trading companies; the keen struggle between
France and England for the preponderating influence with the natives.
Desmond was eager to hear of Clive's doings; but he found Diggle, for an
Englishman who had been in India, strangely ignorant of Clive's career;
he seemed impatient of Clive's name, and was always more ready to talk of
his French rivals, Dupleix and Bussy. The boy was impressed by the
mystery, the color, the romance of the East; and after these talks with
Diggle he went home with his mind afire, and dreamed of elephants and
tigers, treasures of gold and diamonds, and fierce battles in which
English, French, and Indians weltered in seas of blood.
One morning Desmond set out for a long walk in the direction of Newport.
It was holiday on the farm; Richard Burke allowed his men a day off once
every half year when he paid his rent.
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