"Fear is name enough. There is none other."
The man's reply was spoken in conclusive tones. He sat as if oblivious, for several minutes. Then searching them both earnestly with haggard eyes, he spoke direct:
"Have you looked on Dhoop Ki Dhil, for whom you come so far? Have you heard her voice?"
Both the Americans shook their heads.
"Will you look on her in the paths of my understanding? Will you render yourselves to know her in the currents of my blood?"
"We will," Cadman answered tensely.
The man lifted his face toward the night-sky, becoming perfectly still before he spoke:
"She is the breath of the early spring-time, when the pulse of the earth awakes. She is the midnight moon of all summers, in all lands. The rose of daybreak is in her smile; the flames of sunset in her face. Lightnings of the monsoon break from her eyes; and she mothers the mothers of men with their tenderness. Her body moves like flowing water; and she is the joy of all joy and the sorrow of all sorrow, in motion."
The man lifted his hand, as if to interrupt himself.
"The majesties of High Himalaya are in her voice; and distances of star-lit night."