But he had needlessly alarmed himself. Kulluka’s countenance expressed unfeigned pleasure at the admiration of his pupil for his old friend.
“Indeed,” he said, “it gives me great pleasure that you should so think of him, and it speaks well for you.”
“But,” Siddha said, after a moment of silence, “who then is Gurupada?”
“Well,” was the answer, “that you have seen for yourself—a hermit of the Himálaya.”
“Yes,” replied Siddha, impatiently, “that I know well; but what was he first, before he came here and tamed tigers?”
“He attempted to tame men,” answered Kulluka, “but in that he did not always succeed. But why did you not ask him yourself who he was?”
“Would that have been discreet,—should you have approved of that?”
“Certainly not, and you acted rightly in not violating the rights of hospitality by indiscreet curiosity, even if it arose from real interest and for that you deserve that your curiosity should be set at rest. Gurupada gave me permission to recount his former life and tell you his name. So listen!
“He was once a king.”
“How now,” said Siddha, a little disturbed, “are you going to tell me a tale from Somadeva,[9] like those I heard so often from you when I was a little boy?”