point, and she was visibly at home in the intricacies. Such
knowledge in a young woman bewildered me. Could she have studied
the plans in the Museum? How else should she know where the abbot
lived, or where the refractory brothers were punished?

Once I missed her, while I stooped to examine some scroll-work,
and following, found her before one of the few images of the
Buddha that the rapacious Museum had spared - a singularly
beautiful bas-relief, the hand raised to enforce the truth the
calm lips were speaking, the drapery falling in stately folds to
the bare feet. As I came up, she had an air as if she had just
ceased from movement, and I had a distinct feeling that she had
knelt before it - I saw the look of worship! The thing troubled
me like a dream, haunting, impossible, but real.

"How beautiful!" I said in spite of myself, as she pointed to the
image. "In this utter solitude it seems the very spirit of the
place."

"He was. He is," said Vanna.

"Explain to me. I don't understand. I know so little of him. What
is the subject?"

She hesitated; then chose her words as if for a beginner;- "It is
the Blessed One preaching to the Tree-Spirits. See how eagerly
they lean from the boughs to listen. This other relief represents
him in the state of mystic vision. Here he is drowned in peace.
See how it overflows from the closed eyes; the closed lips. The
air is filled with his quiet."