The Mirror and the Bracelet by Charlotte Maria Tucker

ONE evening, about the hour of sunset, the doctor, Isa Dás, was called in haste from his devotions to see Natthu the oilman, who was, it was said, dying of raging fever. Isa Dás hurried to the house. The entrance was through a small yard, in which a black buffalo and her calf were tied. Through the doorway Isa Dás passed into the dwelling, the lower part of which was occupied by the oil-mill; but the patient buffalo who usually turned the creaking wheel was no longer going his wearisome round. The place looked the receptacle for dirt, and every species of rubbish.

Isa Dás had never before penetrated beyond this room, but now a group of dirty children were ready to show him the way up to his patient. The narrow staircase was steep and utterly dark; Isa Dás had to feel his way, and take care that he stumbled not on a broken step. To a European newly arrived, such a dwelling might give an idea of extreme poverty, but to the zenana visitor it would appear but a common specimen of the houses of those who live by the work of their hands. Had Isa Dás had no one to show him the way, he would have been sufficiently guided by the hubbub of voices from the apartment above.