“Never!” Isabelle replied in a hoarse whisper.
“Do people fight wars to defend their temples?” Gale asked.
“Perhaps,” was the solemn reply.
Even as they stood there entranced, the light of day began to flicker and go out. As if they had been a thousand bright lamps, all alight, the flowers lost their brightness. As if loathe to leave it, the sunlight lingered for a moment on the dome of the temple. Then, all of a sudden, all was in shadow.
“Come on,” Isabelle whispered. “We must see this.”
Together they hurried along the path of red gravel leading to the temple door, and as they hurried, there came the melodious ringing of many temple bells.
The temple door was open. At first, the large room that in the shadows appeared vast and endless, seemed entirely dark and deserted. A closer look showed a single red light burning before the shadowy figure of a Buddha that even in this faint light appeared to smile.
“Come on.” Isabelle gripped Gale’s hand, and together they moved forward and to the left of the door until they came to a low bench. There they seated themselves.
Leaning far forward, Isabelle sat as a child sits before the opening of some entrancing drama.
Gale leaned back. With the shadows, serious problems had again entered her mind. “I am a soldier,” she thought fiercely. “Then I must fight!”