“Very fine,” I cried, and made a desperate attempt to explain the phenomenon. Robert held up his saucer to represent the sun, and I took two rupees to represent the earth and moon crossing each other’s orbit. Hlaje Tsering listened attentively to Muhamed Isa’s translation of my demonstration, nodded approvingly, and finally expressed his opinion that all this might do very well for us, but that it did not suit Tibet.
At this moment the flap of the tent was thrown back, and Rabsang entered panting and calling out to me:
“The post is here!”
Muhamed Isa and Robert jumped up as though there were fire under their feet, and exclaimed, “We must be off.” I sat quite still, and thrust my feet against the ground so as not to show that I was trembling with excitement. Was it possible? Letters from home, from India, from Gyangtse, and perhaps from the Tashi Lama!
“Who has brought the mail?” I asked, as if nothing had happened.
“A man from Shigatse, accompanied by two others,” answered Rabsang.
“Where is he? Let him bring the mail-bag.”
“We have already told him to come, but he replies that he has strict orders to hand over the letters to the Sahib himself in his own tent. He refuses to do so in the tent of the Governor.”
“What is the matter?” asked Hlaje Tsering, astonished at the general commotion.
“I have news from the Tashi Lama,” I returned very coolly. It was now Hlaje Tsering’s turn to look disconcerted. The news made a very deep impression on him. He quickly gave an order, two men hurried out and returned with a confirmation of my statement. Then he gave me a friendly clap on the shoulder and said, smiling: