over Sialpore to the effect that Gungadhura was up to the same old
game again) announced, as a matter of plain fact that Yasmini had sat
on the spurs. There was long, spun-gold hair to be combed out--penciling
to do to eye-brows--lac to be applied to pretty feet to make them exquisitely
pretty--and layer on layer of gossamer silk to be smothered and hung
exactly right. Then over it all had to go one of those bright-hued silken
veils that look so casually worn but whose proper adjustment is an art.

But when they reached the bottom of the long hill and began twisting
in and out among the narrow streets, it was finished. By the time they
reached the temple of Jinendra, set back in an old stone courtyard with
images of the placid god carved all about in the shade of the wide
projecting cornice, all was quiet and orderly inside the carriage and there
stepped out of it, followed by the same dark-hooded maid, a swift vision
of female loveliness that flitted like a flash of light into the temple gloom.

It was not so squalid as the usual Hindu temple, although so ancient
that the carving of the pillars in some places was almost worn away,
and the broad stone flags on the floor were hollowed deep by ages
of devotion. The gloom was pierced here and there by dim light from
brass lamps, that showed carvings blackened by centuries of smoke,
but there was an unlooked-for suggestion of care, and a little cleanliness
that the fresh blossoms scattered here and there accentuated.

There were very few worshipers at that hour--only a woman, who desired
a child and was praying to Jinendra as a last recourse after trying all
the other gods in vain, and a half-dozen men--all eyes--who gossiped
in low tones in a corner. Yasmini gave them small chance to recognize
her. Quicker than their gaze could follow, a low door at the rear, close
beside the enormous, jeweled image of the god, closed behind her