No one can stand on the river bank without shelter in a heavy storm of rain.  There was no sign of abatement; therefore Nagendra, thinking it necessary to seek for shelter, set out to walk to the village, which was at some distance from the river, through miry paths.  Presently the rain ceased, the wind abated slightly, but the sky was still thickly covered with clouds; therefore both wind and rain might be expected at night.  Nagendra went on, not turning back.

Though it was early in the evening, there was thick darkness, because of the clouds.  There was no sign of village, house, plain, road, or river; but the trees, being surrounded by myriads of fireflies, looked like artificial trees studded with diamonds.  The lightning goddess also still sent quick flashes through the now silent black and white clouds.  A woman’s anger does not die away suddenly.  The assembled frogs, rejoicing in the newly fallen rain, held high festival; and if you listened attentively the voice of the cricket might be heard, like the undying crackle of Ravana’s[1] funeral pyre.  Amid the sounds might be distinguished the fall of the rain-drops on the leaves of the trees, and that of the leaves into the pools beneath; the noise of jackals’ feet on the wet paths, occasionally that of the birds on the trees shaking the water from their drenched feathers, and now and then the moaning of the almost subdued wind.  Presently Nagendra saw a light in the distance.  Traversing the flooded earth, drenched by the drippings from the trees, and frightening away the jackals, he approached the light; and on nearing it with much difficulty, saw that it proceeded from an old brick-built house, the door of which was open.  Leaving his servant outside, Nagendra entered the house, which he found in a frightful condition.

[Footnote 1:  King of Lanka (Ceylon), whose remains were to burn without ceasing.]

It was not quite an ordinary house, but it had no sign of prosperity.  The door-frames were broken and dirty; there was no trace of human occupation—­only owls, mice, reptiles, and insects gathered there.  The light came only from one side.  Nagendra saw some articles of furniture for human use; but everything indicated poverty.  One or two cooking vessels, a broken oven, three or four brass dishes—­these were the sole ornaments of the place.  The walls were black; spiders’ webs hung in the corners; cockroaches, spiders, lizards, and mice, scampered about everywhere.  On a dilapidated bedstead lay an old man who seemed to be at death’s door; his eyes were sunk, his breath hurried, his lips trembling.  By the side of his bed stood an earthen lamp upon a fragment of brick taken from the ruins of the house.  In it the oil was deficient; so also was it in the body of the man.  Another lamp shone by the bedside—­a girl of faultlessly fair face, of soft, starry beauty.