Here was the devout Asita, the pendant of Simeon in the Christian story, holding the Holy Child on his knee while mother and father listened; and here were incidents in the legend of the cousin Devadatta.  Here was the wicked woman who accused the Master of impurity, all confounded; here was the teaching in the Deer-park; the miracle that stunned the fire-worshippers; here was the Bodhisat in royal state as a prince; the miraculous birth; the death at Kusinagara, where the weak disciple fainted; while there were almost countless repetitions of the meditation under the Bodhi tree; and the adoration of the alms-bowl was everywhere.  In a few minutes the Curator saw that his guest was no mere bead-telling mendicant, but a scholar of parts.  And they went at it all over again, the lama taking snuff, wiping his spectacles, and talking at railway speed in a bewildering mixture of Urdu and Tibetan.  He had heard of the travels of the Chinese pilgrims, Fu-Hiouen and Hwen-Tsiang, and was anxious to know if there was any translation of their record.  He drew in his breath as he turned helplessly over the pages of Beal and Stanislas Julien.  “Tis all here.  A treasure locked.’  Then he composed himself reverently to listen to fragments hastily rendered into Urdu.  For the first time he heard of the labours of European scholars, who by the help of these and a hundred other documents have identified the Holy Places of Buddhism.  Then he was shown a mighty map, spotted and traced with yellow.  The brown finger followed the Curator’s pencil from point to point.  Here was Kapilavastu, here the Middle Kingdom, and here Mahabodhi, the Mecca of Buddhism; and here was Kusinagara, sad place of the Holy One’s death.  The old man bowed his head over the sheets in silence for a while, and the Curator lit another pipe.  Kim had fallen asleep.  When he waked, the talk, still in spate, was more within his comprehension.

’And thus it was, O Fountain of Wisdom, that I decided to go to the Holy Places which His foot had trod — to the Birthplace, even to Kapila; then to Mahabodhi, which is Buddh Gaya — to the Monastery — to the Deer-park -to the place of His death.’

The lama lowered his voice.  ’And I come here alone.  For five — seven — eighteen — forty years it was in my mind that the Old Law was not well followed; being overlaid, as thou knowest, with devildom, charms, and idolatry.  Even as the child outside said but now.  Ay, even as the child said, with but-parasti.’

‘So it comes with all faiths.’

’Thinkest thou?  The books of my lamassery I read, and they were dried pith; and the later ritual with which we of the Reformed Law have cumbered ourselves — that, too, had no worth to these old eyes.  Even the followers of the Excellent One are at feud on feud with one another.  It is all illusion.  Ay, maya, illusion.  But I have another desire’ — the seamed yellow face drew within three inches of the Curator, and the long forefinger-nail tapped