The appearance of these maps seemed to the Regent a clap of thunder; the poor man changed colour three or four times in the course of a minute, as if we had shown our death warrant. “It is fortunate for us,” said we to Ki-Chan, “that we have met with you in this country. If, by ill luck, you had not been here, we should have been utterly unable to convince the Thibetian authorities that these maps are not our own drawing. But an instructed man like yourself, conversant with European matters, will at once see that these maps are not our own work.” Ki-Chan was evidently much flattered by the compliment. “Oh, it is evident,” said he, at the first glance, “that these maps are printed. Look here,” said he to the Regent; “these maps were not drawn by these men; they were printed in the kingdom of France. You cannot distinguish that, but I have been long used to objects, the productions of the Western Heaven.” These words produced a magical effect on the Regent. His face became radiant, and he looked at us with a look of satisfaction, and made a gracious movement with his head, as much as to say, “It is well; you are honest people.”
We could not get off without a little geographical lecture. We yielded charitably to the wishes of the Regent and the Chinese ambassador. We indicated with our fingers on the map of Mercator, China, Tartary, and Thibet, and all the other countries of the globe. The Regent was amazed at seeing how far we were from our native land, and what a long journey we had been obliged to make, by land and water, to come and pay him a visit in the capital of Thibet. He regarded us with astonishment, and then raised the thumb of his right hand, saying, “You are men like that,” signifying, in the figurative language of the Thibetians; you are men of a superlative stamp. After recognising the principal points of Thibet, the Regent inquired whereabouts was Calcutta? “Here,” we said, pointing to a little round speck on the borders of the sea. “And Lha-Ssa: where then is Lha-Ssa?” “Here it is.” The eyes and finger of the Regent went from Lha-Ssa to Calcutta, and from Calcutta to Lha-Ssa. “The Pelings of Calcutta are very near our frontiers,” said he, making a grimace, and shaking his head. “No matter,” he added, “here are the Himalaya mountains.”
The course of geography being ended, the maps were folded up again, placed in their respective cases, and we passed on to religious subjects. Ki-Chan had long since become acquainted with these matters. When he was viceroy of the province of Pe-Tche-Ly, he had sufficiently persecuted the Christians, to have numerous opportunities of making himself familiar with everything connected with the Catholic worship; and he accordingly now displayed his knowledge. He explained the images, the sacred vases, the ornaments. He even informed the company that in the box of holy oils there was a famous remedy for people at death’s door. During all these explanations the Regent was thoughtful and abstracted; his eyes were constantly turned towards a large host-iron. These long pincers, terminating in two large lips, seemed to act powerfully on his imagination. He gave us an inquiring look, seeming to ask us if this frightful implement was not something like an infernal machine. He was only re-assured upon viewing some wafers that we kept in a box, for he then comprehended the use of this strange object.
The worthy Regent was all joyous and triumphant, when he saw that we had nothing in our possession calculated to compromise us. “Well,” said he to the Chinese ambassador with a sneer, “what do you think of these men? What must we do with them? These men are Frenchmen, they are ministers of the religion of the Lord of Heaven, they are honest men; we must leave them in peace.” These flattering words were received in the saloon with a murmur of approbation, and the two missionaries, said, from the bottom of their hearts, Deo gratias.
The porters shouldered our luggage, and we returned to our lodging with undoubtedly greater alacrity and lighter hearts than when we had left it. The news of our reinstatement soon spread through the town, and the Thibetian people hastened from all quarters to congratulate us. They saluted us heartily, and the French name was in every one’s mouth. Thenceforward the white Azaras were entirely forgotten.
When we had refurnished our apartments we gave some Tchang-Ka to the porters, in order that they might drink our health in a pot of Thibetian small beer, and appreciate the magnanimity of the French, in not making people work for nothing.
Every one having gone away, we resumed our accustomed solitude, and solitude inducing reflection, we discovered two important things. In the first place, that we had not yet dined, and in the second, that our horses were no longer in the stable. Whilst we were considering how to get something quickly cooked, and how to find where our horses were, we saw at the threshold of our
door the governor of the Katchi, who relieved us from the double embarrassment. This excellent man having foreseen that our attendance at the court of inquiry would not allow us time to make our pot boil, came, followed by two servants carrying a basket of provisions, with an ovation he had prepared for us. “And our horses—can you give us any information about them? We no longer see them in the court?” “I was going to tell you about them; they have been since yesterday evening in the Regent’s stables. During your absence they have felt neither hunger nor thirst. I heard you say you intended to sell them—is it so?” “Oh, quite so, these animals ruin us; and yet they are so thin, no one will buy them.” “The Regent wants to buy them.” “The Regent!” “Yes, the Regent himself. Do not smile, it is no jest. How much do you want for them?” “Oh, whatever he likes to give.” “Well, then, your horses are purchased,” and so saying, the Cashmerian unrolled a small packet he had under his arm, and laid upon the table two silver ingots weighing ten ounces each. “Here,” said he, “is the price of your two horses.” We thought our beasts, worn and attenuated as they were, not worth the money, and we conscientiously said so to the governor of the Katchi; but it was impossible to modify the transaction which had been all settled and concluded beforehand. The Regent made out that our horses, although thin, were of an excellent breed, since they had not succumbed beneath the fatigues of our long journey. Besides, they had, in his eyes, a special value, because they had passed through many countries, and particularly because they had fed on the pastures of Kounboum, the native place of Tsong-Kaba. Twenty extra ounces of silver in our low purse was almost a fortune. We could be generous with it; so, on the spot, we took one of the ingots and placed it on Samdadchiemba’s knees. “This is for you,” we said; “you will be able with it to clothe yourself in holiday dress from head to foot.” Samdadchiemba thanked us coldly and awkwardly; then the muscles of his face became distended, his nostrils swelled, and his large mouth assumed a smile. At last, he could not restrain his joy; he rose and made his ingot leap in the air twice or thrice, crying, “This is a famous day!” And Samdadchiemba was right. This day, so sadly begun, had been fortunate beyond anything we could have expected. We had now, at Lha-Ssa, an honourable position, and we were to be allowed to labour freely in the propagation of the gospel.
The next day was still more lucky for us than its predecessor; putting, as it were, a climax to our prosperity. In the morning we proceeded, accompanied by the Cashmerian governor, to the palace
of the Regent, to whom we desired to express our gratitude for the manifestations of interest with which he had honoured us. We were received with kindness and cordiality. He told us, in confidence, that the Chinese were jealous of our being at Lha-Ssa; but that we might count on his protection, and reside freely in the country, without any one having a right to interfere with us. “You are very badly lodged,” added he; “your room seemed to me dirty, small, and uncomfortable. I would have strangers like you, men come from so great a distance, well treated at Lha-Ssa. In your country of France, do they not treat strangers well?” “They treat them excellently. Oh, if you could but go there some day, you would see how our Emperor would receive you.” “Strangers are guests; you must leave your present abode; I have ordered a suitable lodging to be prepared for you in one of my houses.” We accepted this generous offer with grateful thanks. To be lodged comfortably and free of expense was not a thing for men in our position to despise; but we appreciated, above all, the advantage of residing in one of the Regent’s own houses. So signal a favour, such emphatic protection, on the part of the Thibetian authorities, could not but give us with the inhabitants of Lha-Ssa great moral influence, and facilitate our apostolic mission.