At last the Lama dismissed the troupe to the far end of the hall, where they sprawled wearily on the floor and awaited supper. Not moving from the mat, he beckoned Ommony and Dawa Tsering to come and squat on the floor in front of him, not on the platform. They had to look up.
“Now for the show-down! Good!” thought Ommony, stroking Diana’s head as she crouched on the floor beside him. But the Lama spoke to Dawa Tsering, using the northern dialect:
“Why did you say to Samding that I owe you two months’ pay?” he asked, not offended, curious.
“Oh, I had to say something. I had to have an excuse for seeing you. I had a letter to deliver.”
The Lama nodded, but his voice became a half-note sterner: “Why did you use violence to Samding?”
“I am a violent man, and the chela offended me.”
“What offense did the chela commit?”
“Oh, he looked too satisfied. He was a fool to stir the devil in me. Also I was disgusted.”
“Why?”
“Because he did not look afraid. And I knew he was afraid—of me! Therefore he was a liar. Therefore I smote him with the letter, and hustled him a time or two. He was afraid to hit back. Let him hit me now, if he is not afraid to!”