ner of which was not
only a slayer of pheasants, but a reader of books and a student of
things. He had gathered together the Bishop of the Diocese, a Cabinet
Minister, two eminent philosophers, the American Ambassador, a leading
historian, and a Writer on the Mystics. To these was added--for he
deserves a sentence to himself--an Orientalist of world-wide reputation.
All were gathered for the purpose of meeting Chandrapal.

By the charm of his manners, by his urbanity, by his brilliant and
thought-provoking conversation, the Oriental repaid his host a hundred
times over. To most of his fellow-guests he played the part of teacher,
while seeming to act that of disciple; but to none was his manner so
deferential and his air of attention so profound as to the great
Orientalist. And yet in the secret heart of Chandrapal this was the man
for whom he felt the deepest compassion. He found, indeed, that the
great man's reputation had not belied him; he was versed in the wisdom
of the East and in the tongues which had spoken it; he knew the path to
the Great Peace as well as the sage knew it himself; but when Chandrapal
looked into his restless eyes and heard the hard tones of his voice, he
perceived that no soul on earth was further from the Great Peace than
this.

With the two philosophers Chandrapal spent many hours in close debate.
He spoke to them of the Bhagavad Gita and of Spinoza. He found that of
the Bhagavad Gita they knew little--and they cared less. Of Spinoza they
knew much and understood nothing--thus thought he. So he turned to other
topics and conversed fluently on the matters dearest to their
hearts--namely, their own works, with which he was well acquainted.
They, on their part, had never met a listener more sympathetic, a critic
more acute. Chandrapal left upon them the impression of his immense
capacity for assimilating the products of Western thought; also the
belief that they had thoroughly rifled his brains.

Meanwhile he was thinking thus within himself: "These men are keepers of
shops, like the rest of their nation. Their merchandise is the thoughts
of God, which they defile with wordy traffic, understanding them not.
They have no reverence for their masters; their souls are poisoned with
self; therefore the Light is not in them, and they know not the good
from the evil. The word of the Truth is on their lips, but it lives not
in their hearts. Moreover, they are robbers; and even as their fathers
stole