When the shoemaker said “Ah, if I were king!” Diana’s mouth opened wide and the retort came from behind her:
“It might be better to be a dog like me and not worry so much!”
The illusion was perfect because everybody on the stage looked at the dog as if expecting her to speak; and the best of it was that Diana cocked an ear, put her head to one side, and was immensely interested.
In answer to the saddhu’s, “How long will ye store up wrath against the day of reckoning?” there was put into Diana’s mouth:
“For myself I bury bones, but jackals come in the night and make away with them!”
When the king asked, “Is this your gratitude?” and the saddhu replied, “To whom? For what?” Diana’s retort was:
“The saddhu is like the vermin on my back; he helps himself but isn’t grateful. And when he is scratched he just goes to another place!”
Diana was easy to manage, and Ommony’s signals, made with his right hand, were invisible from the front of the theater on his left. But Dawa Tsering was a hard problem; he was supposed to be one of those wandering clown-fakirs who amuse and terrify village gatherings by alternately acting like idiots and pretending they are in communication with the underworld of demons and lost souls. He could neither remember his lines nor keep his head, but blundered in at the wrong cues and then laughed self-consciously. Ommony advised the Lama to dispense with him altogether.
“Nay,” said the Lama. “All things are good in the proper place. There is a part he can play.”
Whereat he ordered the stage set for the second act, which was a simple business. The flies reversed suggested a palace interior. Curtains at the rear concealed the greenery. The well was replaced by a carpeted dais with a large throne on top of it, inside which the Lama could conceal himself quite easily. A few heaps of cushions and settees were carried on the stage and while the change was being made the orchestra rehearsed amazing music.