A servant brought cups of Chinese porcelain on copper saucers and with silver covers. Another poured out of a picturesque tea-pot the thick tea mixed with butter which the Tibetans are so fond of, and which I now drank apparently with pleasure, though to me it tasted horrible—but Hlaje Tsering had lately praised my English tea.
The conversation was carried on calmly and agreeably as in my tent. But the negotiations made no progress, but rather the contrary, for Hlaje Tsering now said:
“I can on no account let you go to the Dangra-yum-tso; the lake is holy, and, besides, watchmen have already been posted there.”
“The road to the east is also barred?”
“Yes, the country is entirely closed to you on the south, west, and east, and I cannot, as I now perceive, send you back to the north.”
“Am I, then, to travel through the air, or sink down to the lower regions?”
“No, but you must wait here.”
“And you will send my letter to Gyangtse?”
“No, I will not do that, but I will not prevent you from sending two of your men on your own responsibility.”
“Will you sell me some horses for them?”