That could not satisfy me.
“Impossible,” I said. “For how could that strange formula come into my mind? I never heard it before. I have not the faintest notion what it means.”
There was a brief silence, then he answered slowly.
“I scarcely think it my part to clear up the matter. Will you not ask the Abbot himself? Yet there are one or two things I could say if you wish.”
Seeing I was in earnest he continued.
“The Abbot Gyōsen is a remarkable man. In the first place seclusion in a mountain temple in devout contemplation purifies the heart, and then he is a deep student of Zen. Zen is the science of mental or spiritual concentration. In India they call it Yoga. A man who possesses this knowledge can do things which to the ignorant of its powers appear miracles. They are perfectly natural however. In his youth he had magnificent skill in jujutsu. No man could stand up against him. There was a reason for that.”
He was silent for a moment, and then added:
“His influence is enormous. You would scarcely credit the true stories I could tell of him.”
I listened in deep reflection, staring at the broken ripples of moonlight in the river. Again the weird intake of breath seized me, my heart beat rapidly with the consciousness that I was face to face with the Unknown; that it had eyes but I was blind, groping in the dark. Light, light: That was the cry within me.
“The formula?” I asked, when my breath steadied again.