It is many days since I tended thee . And the Sahiba fed thee well ? Who shampooed thy legs ? What of the weaknesses -- the belly and the neck , and the beating in the ears ? ' ` Gone -- all gone . Dost thou not know ? ' ' I know nothing , but that I have not seen thee in a monkey 's age . Know what ? ' ` Strange the knowledge did not reach out to thee , when all my thoughts were theeward . ' ' I can not see the face , but the voice is like a gong . Has the Sahiba made a young man of thee by her cookery ? ' He peered at the cross-legged figure , outlined jet-black against the lemon-coloured drift of light . So does the stone Bodhisat sit who looks down upon the patent self-registering turnstiles of the Lahore Museum . The lama held his peace . Except for the click of the rosary and a faint clop-clop of Mahbub 's retreating feet , the soft , smoky silence of evening in India wrapped them close . ` Hear me ! I bring news . ' ` But let us -- ' Out shot the long yellow hand compelling silence . Kim tucked his feet under his robe-edge obediently . ` Hear me !
I XXXXX news !
bring gone held know let peered retreating see shot tended