At first they wandered through the narrow streets in silence, just the two of them, in an utterly foreign world. As they saw the pinched faces of children and peeped into the narrow, cramped quarters where they lived their life away, strange questions passed through their minds.
“Do you know,” said Isabelle, “I have always thought of this war as if it effected only our own people in America. Now I find myself thinking of these strange people of India. Yes, and of China, Japan and Russia. But most of all, of these people of India—they hold my attention. They say there are a billion people in Asia. There are only a few of our people in America, compared to that. Life is strange. All this disturbs me. Sometimes I almost wish I hadn’t asked to come.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Gale exclaimed, squaring her shoulders. “For no matter how many worlds I live in after this, I can visit this one but once. I want to see it all.”
After that they walked on in silence until they came to a winding path leading up a hill. There were no homes on the hill—only ancient trees and the solemn air of early evening hours.
“Let’s follow the path,” Isabelle suggested. “There’s nothing I like better than following a strange path, and I’ve heard there’s a temple up here somewhere.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” Gale led the way.
The path grew steep and rocky as they advanced, but the rocks were worn smooth, as if ten million pairs of feet had passed that way.
“Ten million,” Gale thought. “India is very old. But where could they all have been going?”
The forest trees that loomed above the trail grew thicker and taller as they advanced until at last they shut out the sun.
“It’s like something I read in a book called Pilgrim’s Progress,” Isabelle said with a little shudder. “I’ve never cared much for shadows since I read that book. I was twelve then. I love the sunshine best.”