Thrilled with delight the girl watched them go and then, when the entry of a fresh body of mummers into the courtyard distracted the attention of the spectators from her, she withdrew quietly to her room.  She was alone, the nun having gone long ago to witness the Devil Dance from among the crowd.  Muriel opened the door leading to a broad stone staircase and peered cautiously out.  There was no one to be seen.  All the inhabitants of the monastery were gathered in the courtyard.  She stole carefully down to a side door of the lamasery chapel.

This temple was a large and lofty building richly ornamented with fine wood carvings, rich brocades and elaborately embroidered banners and hangings.  The pillars supporting the roof were covered with copper plates beaten into beautiful patterns and the altars were of silver, the chief one, as in all Bhutanese chapels, being adorned by a splendid pair of elephant’s tusks.  Idols abounded.  There was a central seated figure of Buddha thirty feet high, heavily gilt and studded with turquoises and precious stones, with a canopy and background of golden lotus leaves.  On either side were attendant female figures; and images of Buddhist gods, larger than life size, stood in double rows.

Muriel concealed herself behind the colossal statue of Buddha and had not long to wait before from her hiding-place she saw two maskers, the Snake and the Dragon, enter the Temple cautiously.  The latter remained on guard at the door while his companion, who carried a bundle, advanced furtively towards the great idol.  As he drew near he opened the jaws of the mask and said in a low tone: 

“Muriel!  Muriel!  Are you here?”

At the sound of the well-remembered voice the girl trembled violently.  Her heart beat quickly as she came out from behind the statue.  When he beheld her the masker lifted the snake’s head off; and Muriel saw that the face revealed, disguised and stained a dull yellow, was that of her lover.  At the sight of it she forgot the painful past, forgot her grievance against him, forgot the other woman, the sorrow that he had caused her.  As he sprang towards her with outstretched arms she cried: 

“Oh, thank God you’ve come, dear!”

Frank caught her in his eager embrace.  Then under the image of the Great Dreamer who taught that Love is Illusion, that Affection is Error, that Desire but binds closer to the revolving Wheel they kissed fondly, passionately, like two faithful lovers met again after a lifetime of parting.  And the grotesque Devil-Gods around glared fiercely at them.  But the Lord Buddha looked mildly down, on his sculptured face the ineffable calm of Nirvana, the peace of freedom from all Desire attained at last.  But, heedless of gods or devils, the man strained the woman to his heart and rained kisses on her lips, her eyes, her hair.