whom I give a dole. Curse me? Thou canst neither curse nor bless!” She set her hands on her hips and laughed bitterly. “Thy Gods are lies; thy works are lies; thy words are lies. There are no Gods under all the Heavens. I know it … But for awhile I thought it was my Sahib come back, and he was my God. Yes, once I made music on a pianno in the Mission-house at Kotgarh. Now I give alms to priests who are heatthen .” She wound up with the English word, and tied the mouth of the brimming bag.
“I wait for thee, chela ,” said the lama, leaning against the doorpost.
The woman swept the tall figure with her eyes. “He walk! He cannot cover half a mile. Whither would old bones go?”
At this Kim, already perplexed by the lama’s collapse and foreseeing the weight of the bag, fairly lost his temper.
“What is it to thee, woman of ill-omen, where he goes?”
“Nothing—but something to thee, priest with a Sahib’s face. Wilt thou carry him on thy shoulders?”
“I go to the Plains. None must hinder my return. I have wrestled with my soul till I am strengthless. The stupid body is spent, and we are far from the Plains.”
“Behold!” she said simply, and drew aside to let Kim see his own utter helplessness. “Curse me. Maybe it will give him strength. Make a charm! Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest.” She turned away.
The lama had squatted limply, still holding by the doorpost. One cannot strike down an old man that he recovers again like a boy in the night. Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes that hung on Kim were alive and imploring.