At last came the longed-for orders. We were to start to march in December to Rawalpindi, there take the train – the line having been opened as far as that now – and then proceed to one of the nicest stations in Bengal – Fackabad.

If I had time I should like to describe this march in detail, for marching in India is truly delightful, but I can only tell of two incidents of which the first affected relations between Colonel Selwyn and myself, and the second raised me to Heaven only to plunge me down into Hell. Let me explain.

The first night of the march we encamped at Shakkote at the foot of the hill. Lavie and I, who were inseparable, went for a stroll and did not get back to camp until after dark. Going to my tent I met Soubratie outside who made me a mysterious sign and told me in a whisper that the colonel sahib was asleep on my bed.

Out of curiosity and wondering why he should have chosen my bed instead of his own, I gently and in spite of Soubratie went and peeped. My camp lantern was dimly burning, turned down as low as possible where it stood on the ground, but there was light enough for me to see that a man was on my bed between the thighs of a woman and fucking her deliciously. I could not see their faces, but I could see their bottoms and such an enormous pair of balls hanging and quite hiding any part of the cunt which might otherwise, perhaps, have been seen when the prick to which they belonged was drawn out of it as far as could be before the next home thrust, that had not Soubratie told me it was the colonel, I should have guessed it was he. I could not resist it. I went straight in as though I had expected nothing. The poor colonel looked up, blurted something, and I roared with laughter!

'I really beg your pardon, colonel! I did not know you were here! Never mind, I won't say a word and I won't disturb you.' And before he could say anything I left the tent.

By and by out he came. I made as if I didn't wish to see him, but taking me by the arm he said, 'Devereaux, Devereaux, I must offer you a thousand apologies! For God's sake don't tell anybody! My dear boy, if your wife were as delicate as mine, you would understand how impossible I find it to go without a woman. Don't betray me, Devereaux! Don't! It would kill Mrs Selwyn! I can't help it but she would not understand. Oh! boy, speak!'

'Of course I won't tell, colonel. But why on earth do you look at Mrs Soubratie when you have such a lovely ayah in Sugdaya?'

'Because, my boy, take my advice, if you ever fuck a woman who is not your wife, don't let her be one of your own household. Now! if you would like to fuck Sugdaya yourself, you are welcome. Would you?'

'My dear colonel, I am really very greatly obliged, very greatly indeed, but I think I lost too much blood up the hill there to feel the want of a woman again before my wife joins me.'

Well! If you do – you know – Sugdaya or any other – remember,' said the colonel.

I am sure he did not intend to include Fanny or Amy in the 'any other'.

On the third day of our march we arrived at Nowshera. How my heart beat at seeing the familiar dak bungalow, once the very temple of Venus, in which I had officiated as her high priest, and had offered so many sacrifices to her with joy and thanksgiving in her favoured shrine between the fair Lizzie Wilson's voluptuous and beautiful thighs. I was tired with the march – not that the distance we had taken was at all excessive but I had not yet recovered my strength after the tremendous blood-letting at Cherat. Lavie had marched with me. The colonel and his family, attended by Jardine, had gone ahead, and sat on the very verandah where the struggle between Lizzie and Searle had taken place. They looked at us as we marched by with the regiment to the camp ground behind the bungalow, between it and the Kabul river. Amy and Mrs Selwyn had each been brought in a dhooli or palanquin, and Jardine and the colonel kept Fanny company.

In the evening after I had strolled to the banks of the river, from visiting which I had been withheld on my first stay by the superior attractions of Lizzie's delightful cunt, I got back to my tent where I found Soubratie mounting guard again, and he told me with a grin that the colonel sahib was there speaking to his woman in master's tent. I went and peeped in very quietly and had the felicity of seeing the colonel without his coat or trousers on, lying beside Mrs Soubratie, whose fine, fat brown cunt he was manipulating with his hand while she was grasping those balls so remarkable for their colossal size. Evidently the interested pair were making ready for a second assault and soon I saw this accomplished. The colonel, evidently, enjoyed himself very much and judging from the little feminine ripple of laughter which from time to time issued from Mrs Soubratie, she likewise profited by the nice titillation which her admirer's very full-sized prick was occasioning her. Soon came the vigorous short digs and then the final hard squeeze home, which told me in eloquent silence that the colonel was inundating the shrine with the oil of his manhood; then, withdrawing his prick from its hot retreat, he lay down panting for a few minutes and after a little while got up and commenced dressing his nether limbs. Had I seen this good performance some weeks earlier before I had been so disabled by my wounds I should have been driven nearly frantic and have had my own prick in such a state of alarming stiffness and fury, that I should probably have waited to see the colonel safe out of the tent, and then gone in myself and in spite of Mrs Soubratie's big hands, which always spoiled any idea of fucking her that came into my mind at Cherat, where I had at the time no other available cunt, I should have gone in and had a round or two with her then and there, and worked off the extra effervescence of my feelings. But now! Oh! It was sickening to me! Not a stir came in my prick. Not a ghost of a stand. Not even a ripple.

But ah! during the next day, during the next evening, a delightful and most cheerful change in this respect came over me! If any medical man should happen to read this exact narrative of my feelings and history he may be able to account for it, but I cannot, at least I cannot give scientific reasons, which no doubt he can and will to any enquiring soul. Well, the next morning I got a nice little note from Fanny:

DEAR CAPTAIN DEVEREAUX – Mamma wants to know why you are making yourself such a stranger. We have caught hardly even a glimpse of you for a long time now. Will you come and dine with us tonight? It will be an early dinner, at six, because we have to get up early tomorrow morning for the march. Do come!

Yours always affectionately,