"And to cover that weariness they, my people, will bring to thee,
Shiv, and to thee, Ganesh, at first greater offerings and a louder
noise of worship. But the word has gone abroad, and, after, they
will pay fewer dues to our fat Brahmins. Next they will forget your
altars, but so slowly that no man can say how his forgetfulness
began.

"I knew - I knew! I spoke this also, but they would not hear," said
the Tigress. "We should have slain - we should have slain! "

"It is too late now. Ye should have slain at the beginning when the
men from across the water had taught our folk nothing. Now my
people see their work, and go away thinking. They do not think of
the Heavenly Ones altogether. They think of the fire-carriage and
the other things that the bridge-builders have done, and when your
priests thrust forward hands asking alms, they give a little
unwillingly. That is the beginning, among one or two, or five or
ten - for I, moving among my people, know what is in their hearts."

"And the end, Jester of the Gods? What shall the end be? " said
Ganesh.

"The end shall be as it was in the beginning, O slothful son of
Shiv! The flame shall die upon the altars and the prayer upon the
tongue till ye become little Gods again - Gods of the jungle - names
that the hunters of rats and noosers of dogs whisper in the thicket
and among the caves - rag-Gods, pot Godlings of the tree, and the
villagemark, as ye were at the beginning. That is the end, Ganesh,
for thee, and for Bhairon - Bhairon of the Common People."