Story selection by Franz Hartmann | Note by H.P.B.
“O, great Krashibashi! Have I then at last found favour in your eyes? For many years have I wished to see you. At last my prayer now seems granted, and you have consented to appear in bodily form before your obedient servant. May I ask you to enter this humble room and accept a chair? I shall immediately open the door.”
Pancho, seeing that this was evidently a case of mistaken identity, did not wish to intrude. He returned to his room and the sense of the ludicrous overcame his melancholy. There was now nothing to prevent him from sleeping. His doubts had vanished, and he was firmly convinced that he had been a fool.1
1. As everyone is, or will be, who, feeling drawn toward Occultism, instead of proceeding prudently to acquire it and thus learn the truth, permits his fancy to run off after his own preconceived ideas, or lends ear to the insane talk of fanatical enthusiasts. Those whom sober Occultists call “Masters,” though so vastly superior to average humanity, are not Genii or Enchanters out of the “Arabian Nights,” but mortal men with abnormal powers.—Ed. [H.P.B.]