With these words, the pilgrim Kamanita brought his narrative to a close, became silent, and gazed meditatively out upon the landscape.
And the Lord Buddha also became silent, and gazed meditatively out upon the landscape.
Lofty trees were to be seen, some near, some farther off, some grouping themselves in shadowy masses, others dissolving airily in cloudlike formations and disappearing into the mists in the distance.
The moon now stood directly over the porch, and its light shone into the outer part of the hall, where it lay like three white sheets upon the bleaching-green, while the left side of the pillars gleamed as though mounted in silver.
In the deep silence of the night one could hear a buffalo cow somewhere in the neighbourhood, cropping the grass with short measured jerks.
And the Master pondered within himself—
"Should I indeed tell this pilgrim all I know of Vasitthi?—how faithful she was to him; how, without fault of her own, she was by base fraud brought to marry Satagira; how it was her doing that Angulimala appeared in Ujjeni; and how, owing to that very visit, he himself, Kamanita, is now treading the path of the pilgrim instead of sinking in foul luxury. Should I reveal to him the path that is Vasitthi's now?"
