Divine Daughter of the Himalaya, the Emanation of the mighty
mountains, seated upon a throne, listening to a girl who played
on a Pan pipe before her. The goddess sat, her chin leaned upon
her hand, her shoulders slightly inclined in a pose of gentle
sweetness, looking down upon the girl at her feet, absorbed in
the music of the hills and lonely places. A band of jewels,
richly wrought, clasped the veil on her brows, and below the bare
bosom a glorious girdle clothed her with loops and strings and
tassels of jewels that fell to her knees - her only garment.

The girl was a lovely image of young womanhood, the proud swell
of the breast tapering to the slim waist and long limbs easily
folded as she half reclined at the divine feet, her lips pressed
to the pipe. Its silent music mysteriously banished fear. The
sleep must be sweet indeed that would come under the guardianship
of these two fair creatures - their gracious influence was dewy
in the air. I resolved that I would spend the night beside them.
Now with the march of the moon dim vistas of the walls beyond
sprang into being. Strange mythologies - the incarnations of
Vishnu the Preserver, the Pastoral of Krishna the Beautiful. I
promised myself that next day I would sketch some of the
loveliness about me. But the moon was passing on her way - I
folded the coat I carried into a pillow and lay down at the feet
of the goddess and her nymph. Then a moonlit quiet I slept in a
dream of peace.

Sleep annihilates time. Was it long or short when I woke like a
man floating up to the surface from tranquil deeps? That I cannot
tell, but once more I possessed myself and every sense was on
guard.