the same as ever, in the same coat and the same trousers. I tried to make fun of this, but he laughed me out and said:
“You civilized fellows are all cowards. Great men never look at a person’s exterior. They think of his heart.”
We entered the Cardinal’s mansion. As soon as we were seated, a thin, tall, old gentleman made his appearance, and shook hands with us. Narayan Hemchandra thus gave his greetings:
“I do not want to take up your time. I had heard a lot about you and I felt I should come and thank you for the good work you have done for the strikers. It has been my custom to visit the sages of the world and that is why I have put you to this trouble.”
This was of course my translation of what he spoke in Gujarati.
“I am glad you have come. I hope your stay in London will agree with you and that you will get in touch with people here. God bless you.”
With these words the Cardinal stood up and said goodbye.
Once Narayan Hemchandra came to my place in a shirt and dhoti. The good landlady opened the door, came running to me in a fright—this was a new landlady who did not know Narayan Hemchandra—and said; “A sort of a madcap wants to see you.” I went to the door and to my surprise found Narayan Hemchandra. I was shocked. His face, however, showed nothing but his usual smile.
“But did not the children in the street rag you?”
“Well, they ran after me, but I did not mind them and they were quiet.”
Narayan Hemchandra went to Paris after a few months’ stay in London. He began studying French and also translating French books. I knew