accustomed to spend all the fine evenings, in the hot season—often passing even the whole night there, reposing on a couch. For the rocky front of the ravine, which was, besides, surmounted by a high wall, was so steep and slippery that I felt certain no human being could scale it.
Once, on a mild and glorious moonlit night, I lay on my bed unable to sleep. I was thinking of thee, and particularly of that first evening together; the moment when I sat with Medini on the marble bench, on the Terrace, awaiting thy arrival, stood vividly before my mind's eye; and I thought of how, even before we hoped for it, thy form suddenly appeared over the top of the wall—for, in thy passionate ardour, thou hadst outdistanced Somadatta.
Lost in these sweet dreams, I had unconsciously let my gaze rest on the parapet, when suddenly a figure rose above it.
I was so convinced that no human being could ever scale this part of the wall, that I did not doubt in the least but that thy spirit, conjured up by my longing, had come to comfort me, and to bring news of the blessed place where thou didst now await me.
For which reason I was in no way frightened, but got up and extended my arms to embrace my visitor.
When, however, he stood on the Terrace and approached me with rapid steps, I saw that his figure was much taller than thine—indeed, even gigantic—and I perceived that I had the spirit of Angulimala before me. But at that I became so greatly terrified, that I was obliged to cling to the head of my couch in order not to fall down.
"Whom didst thou expect?" asked the fearful apparition, coming close to me.
"A spirit, but not thine," I answered.
