"However, let us go to the cave where breakfast is ready for us.
Fresh air will do all of you good."
On our way we met with another cave, twenty or thirty steps south
from the verandah, but the Takur did not let us go in, fearing new
accidents for us. So we descended the stone steps I have already
mentioned, and after descending about two hundred steps towards
the foot of the mountain, made a short reascent again and entered
the "dining-room," as the Babu denominated it. In my role of
"interesting invalid," I was carried to it, sitting in my folding
chair, which never left me in all my travels.
This temple is much the less gloomy of the two, in spite of
considerable signs of decay. The frescoes of the ceiling are
better preserved than in the first temple. The walls, the tumbled
down pillars, the ceiling, and even the interior rooms, which
were lighted by ventilators cut through the rock, were once
covered by a varnished stucco, the secret of which is now known
only to the Madrasis, and which gives the rock the appearance of
pure marble.
We were met by the Takur's four servants, whom we remembered since
our stay in Karli, and who bowed down in the dust to greet us.
The carpets were spread, and the breakfast ready. Every trace of
carbonic acid had left our brains, and we sat down to our meal in
the best of spirits. Our conversation soon turned to the Hardwar
Mela, which our unexpectedly-recovered friend had left exactly
five days ago.
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