The masquerade, which came off this evening, is over. I have taken part in it, and I am tired and bewildered; but I know I shall not be able to rest until I have tried to recall and to understand what has happened. So I have asked for a longer supply of light than usual, and I am sitting alone in my cabin writing it all down.

As soon as the masquerade was arranged I determined on my disguise. I would be an Indian of high rank. I consulted Chunder Singh, who with the most obliging readiness entered into my project, undertaking to dress and instruct me for the part. With this view we retired to his cabin in the early part of the day. He happened to have in his possession such a dress as Indian rajahs wear upon state occasions, 안마사구인구직 decked out with jewellery which appeared to be of great value. In these he dressed me. Then he stained my face and hands a light brown, deepened the colour of my hair and eyebrows, and wound a magnificent turban round my brows. This done he began to show me the proper gestures to use and speeches to make, I in the meantime watching him closely, and trying to mould my behaviour on his. At first, so far as I was concerned, it was a mere game; but presently I felt as though an indescribable and mysterious change were coming upon me. I was not copying him only—his mind was being reflected upon my mind. I was, in fact, stepping out of my own individuality and into that of another. I might have thought myself the victim of a curious illusion had it not been that there was an answering change in Chunder Singh. For a few moments I saw him stand as if paralysed, then a wonderful light overspread his face, and with outstretched arms he came towards me slowly, murmuring 'Brother! Brother!'