Miss Brinklow, however, had no such scruples. “Please,” she said, though the word was by no means submissive, “will you tell us about the monastery?”
Chang raised his eyebrows in very gentle deprecation of such immediacy. “It will give me the greatest of pleasure, madam, so far as I am able. What exactly do you wish to know?”
“First of all, how many are there of you here, and what nationality do you belong to?” It was clear that her orderly mind was functioning no less professionally than at the Baskul mission-house.
Chang replied: “Those of us in full lamahood number about fifty, and there are a few others, like myself, who have not yet attained to complete initiation. We shall do so in due course, it is to be hoped. Till then we are half-lamas, postulants, you might say. As for our racial origins, there are representatives of a great many nations among us, though it is perhaps natural that Tibetans and Chinese make up the majority.”
Miss Brinklow would never shirk a conclusion, even a wrong one. “I see. It’s really a native monastery, then. Is your head lama a Tibetan or a Chinese?”
“No.”
“Are there any English?”
“Several.”
“Dear me, that seems very remarkable.” Miss Brinklow paused only for breath before continuing: “And now, tell me what you all believe in.”
Conway leaned back with somewhat amused expectancy. He had always found pleasure in observing the impact of opposite mentalities; and Miss Brinklow’s girl-guide forthrightness applied to Lamaistic philosophy promised to be entertaining. On the other hand, he did not wish his host to take fright. “That’s rather a big question,” he said, temporizingly.
But Miss Brinklow was in no mood to temporize. The wine, which had made the others more reposeful, seemed to have given her an extra liveliness. “Of course,” she said with a gesture of magnanimity, “I believe in the true religion, but I’m broadminded enough to admit that other people, foreigners, I mean, are quite often sincere in their views. And naturally in a monastery I wouldn’t expect to be agreed with.”
Her concession evoked a formal bow from Chang. “But why not, madam?” he replied in his precise and flavored English. “Must we hold that because one religion is true, all others are bound to be false?”
“Well, of course, that’s rather obvious, isn’t it?”
Conway again interposed. “Really, I think we had better not argue. But Miss Brinklow shares my own curiosity about the motive of this unique establishment.”
Chang answered rather slowly and in scarcely more than a whisper: “If I were to put it into a very few words, my dear sir, I should say that our prevalent belief is in moderation. We inculcate the virtue of avoiding excess of all kinds – even including, if you will pardon the paradox, excess of virtue itself. In the valley which you have seen, and in which there are several thousand inhabitants living under the control of our order, we have found that the principle makes for a considerable degree of happiness. We rule with moderate strictness, and in return we are satisfied with moderate obedience. And I think I can claim that our people are moderately sober, moderately chaste, and moderately honest.”
Conway smiled. He thought it well expressed, besides which it made some appeal to his own temperament. “I think I understand. And I suppose the fellows who met us this morning belonged to your valley people?”
“Yes. I hope you had no fault to find with them during the journey?”
“Oh, no, none at all. I’m glad they were more than moderately sure-footed, anyhow. You were careful, by the way, to say that the rule of moderation applied to them – am I to take it that it does not apply to your priesthood also?”
But at that Chang could only shake his head. “I regret, sir, that you have touched upon a matter which I may not discuss. I can only add that our community has various faiths and usages, but we are most of us moderately heretical about them. I am deeply grieved that at the moment I cannot say more.”
“Please don’t apologize. I am left with the pleasantest of speculations.” Something in his own voice, as well as in his bodily sensations, gave Conway a renewed impression that he had been very slightly doped. Mallinson appeared to have been similarly affected, though he seized the present chance to remark: “All this has been very interesting, but I really think it’s time we began to discuss our plans for getting away. We want to return to India as soon as possible. How many porters can we be supplied with?”
The question, so practical and uncompromising, broke through the crust of suavity to find no sure foothold beneath. Only after a longish interval came Chang’s reply: “Unfortunately, Mr. Mallinson, I am not the proper person to approach. But in any case, I hardly think the matter could be arranged immediately.”