ively. 'His curses shake the Hills.'

'Pity they did not save him from a broken head! I heard that thou wast
the tiger-hearted one who smote the Sahib. Let him dream a little
longer. Stay!'

'Hillwoman,' said Kim, with austerity that could not harden the
outlines of his young oval face, 'these matters are too high for thee.'

'The Gods be good to us! Since when have men and women been other than
men and women?'

'A priest is a priest. He says he will go upon this hour. I am his
chela, and I go with him. We need food for the Road. He is an
honoured guest in all the villages, but'--he broke into a pure boy's
grin--'the food here is good. Give me some.'

'What if I do not give it thee? I am the woman of this village.'

'Then I curse thee--a little--not greatly, but enough to remember.' He
could not help smiling.

'Thou hast cursed me already by the down-dropped eyelash and the
uplifted chin. Curses? What should I care for mere words?' She
clenched her hands upon her bosom ... 'But I would not have thee to go
in anger, thinking hardly of me--a gatherer of cow-dung and grass at
Shamlegh, but still a woman of substance.'

'I think nothing,' said Kim, 'but that I am grieved to go, for I am
very weary; and that we need food. Here is the bag.'

The woman snatched it angrily. 'I was foolish,' said she. 'Who is thy
woman in the Plains? Fair or black? I was fair once. Laughest thou?
Once, long ago, if thou canst believe, a Sahib looked on me with
favour. Once, long ago, I wore European clothes at the Mission-house
yonder.' She pointed towards Kotgarh. 'Once, long ago. I was
Ker-lis-ti-an and spoke English--as the Sahibs speak it. Yes. My
Sahib said he would return and wed me--yes, wed me. He went away--I
had nursed him when he was sick--but he never returned. Then I saw
that the Gods of the Kerlistians lied, and I went back to my own people
... I have never set eyes on a Sahib since. (Do not laugh at me. The
fit is past, little priestling.) Thy face and thy walk and thy fashion
of speech put me in mind of my Sahib, though thou art only a wandering
mendicant to whom I give a dole. Curse me? Thou canst neither curse
nor bless!' She set her hands on her hips and laughed bitterly. 'Thy
Gods are lies; thy works are lies; thy words are lies. There are no
Gods under all the Heavens. I know it ... But for awhile I thought it
was my Sahib come back, and he was my God. Yes, once I made music