The Lama meditated for a moment—seemed to fall asleep—and then to come out of a dream as if emerging from another universe.
“There is a certain merit in you,” he said quietly. “Are you now the servant of this Brahman?”
“I am keeper of the dog. I pick the fleas from her. She is a very wise and unusual devil.”
Dawa Tsering glanced at Ommony, who rather hoped he would say something to the Lama about the Bhat-disguise and thus bring that subject to a head; but he was disappointed. Nothing was farther from Dawa Tsering’s intention; he was thoroughly enjoying what he thought was a perfect imposition on the Lama.
“This Gupta Rao,” he went on, “is a devil even greater than the dog. I like him. He and I are friends.”
“Well,” said the Lama, “that seems to be excellent, because friends must stand together. There is a devil needed in this play of mine, and you shall act the devil. You will like that. But remember: there must be no offense to Samding, or to any one. You and Gupta Rao are together, being, as you say, friends. If I should need to dismiss you, because of wrong-doing, I will dismiss him also. Therefore his safety—do you hear me?—his safety will depend on you, and you must behave accordingly.”
The word safety was plainly intended for Ommony’s ears and the chela glanced at him, but the Lama’s eyes did not move. After a slight pause he continued:
“You and the dog will both receive instruction.” Then at last he looked at Ommony: “Will the dog open her mouth when she is told?” he asked.
Ommony ordered Diana to sit upright. He did not need to speak. At a sign from him she opened her mouth wide and yawned.
“That is good,” said the Lama. “That will do. Peace dwell with you, my son. Samding!”