"Captain Sahib," he said solemnly, "if thou wert to raise thy voice in
anger against this holy, soul-redeeming observance thou wouldst be torn
to pieces; not even I could stop them if insult were offered to Omkar.
And, besides, the Englay Raj would call thee accursed for breeding hate
in the hearts of the Hindus through the sacrilege of an insult to the
High Priest of the Temple of Omkar. This is the territory of the
Mahrattas, and the English have no authority here."

Barlow knew that he was helpless. Even if there were jurisdiction of
the British, one against thousands of religious fanatics would avail
nothing.

The priest saw the torture in the man's face, and continued: "The woman
has told me much. Her heart is so with thee that it is already dead.
Thou canst not take her to thy people, for the living hell is even
worse than the hell beyond. If thou lovest the woman glory in her
release from pain of spirit, from the degradation of being
outcast--that she judges wisely, and there is not upon her soul the sin
of taking her own life, for if she went with thee, proud and high-born
as she is, it would come to that, Sahib--thou knowest it. There are
things that cannot be said by me concerning the woman; vows having been
taken in the sanctity of a temple."

A figment of the rumour Barlow had heard that Bootea was Princess
Kumari floated through his mind, but that did not matter; Bootea as
Bootea was the sweetest woman he had ever known. It must be that she
had filled his heart with love.

Again Bootea spoke in a low voice to the priest, and he said: "Sahib, I
go forth for a little, for there are matters to arrange. I see yonder
the sixteen Brahmins who, according to our rites, assemble when one is
to pass at the Shrine of Omkar to _kailas_."

His large luminous eyes rested with tolerant placidity upon the face of
this man whom he must consider, according to his tenets, as a creature
antagonistic to the true gods, and said, in his soft, modulated voice:
"Thou art young, Sahib, and full of the life force which is essential
to the things of the earth--thou art like the blossom of the _mhowa_
tree that comes forth upon bare limbs before the maturity of its
foliage, it is then, as thou art, joyous in the freshness of awaking
life. But life means eternity, the huge cycle that has been since
Indra's birth. Life here is but a step, a transition from condition to
condition, and the woman, by one act of sacrifice, at