'Brahmin. _Shiv-bakht_,'[11] he said. The old man _salaamed_ ere reaching for the sacred white gypsum, which is brought from the snows of Amar-nath; and once more that pride of race swept through the soul whose body awaited its sign of election. But the swift cold touch on his forehead which followed woke Chris to realities, to the question 'Do I mean it?' And the whispering kiss of other bare feet upon the steps warned him that, if he wished time for deliberation, he must remove his tell-tale garments of civilisation before the light made them manifest. If these were hidden away, he himself, in his _yogi_ coloured shawl, could easily pass muster; especially if he retreated to the least-frequented part of the steps, where they ended in a ruined wall, split by the _pipal_ tree-roots. Here, then, he found some convenient crevices for his clothes, and after spreading his shawl to dry in orthodox fashion, sat down beside it in the recognised attitude of meditation, his arms crossed on his knees, his chin resting on them. He was not likely to be recognised, even by broad daylight; for the companions of his later years were not of those who worship. He would have leisure therefore to think, to decide. But once more he reckoned without himself, without the swift response of his senses to the once familiar sights and sounds. The causeless laughter of women filling their water-pots, the tinkle of their anklets, the cries of the flower-sellers, the ceaseless splash of water falling on water, the very leapings and chatterings of the monkeys, putting off time in play till the bathings should end in offerings--all these made connected thought impossible, while eyes and ears were open. In despair at last, he flung the half-dried shawl over his head, stuffed his fingers into his ears, and, leaning back against a tree-trunk, tried to forget where he was; tried not to feel those white bars on his forehead which seemed to burn into his brain. But, in the effort to answer that question, 'Shall I go or stay?'--the effort to remember and yet to forget, he fell into dreamland; finally into sleep. And as he slept, Fate took the answer into her own hands, and turned his tragedy into comedy; for a small and curious monkey who had watched the secretion of those dress-clothes from afar, took advantage of his slumbers to creep down stealthily to a crevice, and make off with its contents--namely, a pair of trousers!