"Dost thou notice aught?" asked Vasitthi.
"A greeting from the Gunga. And listen, she calls," said Kamanita.
As he spoke, the wailing death-song of the genii was silenced by the solemn, thundering sounds they both remembered.
"Good, that we already know the way," exulted Vasitthi. "Art thou still afraid, my friend?"
"How should I fear? Come!"
And like a pair of birds that dash from the nest and fly in the teeth of the wind, so they flew thence.
All stared after them, amazed that there were still beings there who had the strength and courage necessary to flight.
But as they thus breasted the storm, there arose a whirlwind behind them which bereft everything of leaf and soul alike, and made an end of the slowly fading life of Sukhavati.
Soon they had reached the forest of palms, soon passed over it. Before them the silvery expanse of the Stream of the Universe stretched far away to the blue-black border of the heavens.
They swept out over its floods, and were instantly caught in the current of air prevailing there, and borne away with the swiftness of the tempest.
Overpowered by the speed of their flight and by the frightful crash, as it seemed of thunder mingled with the ringing of bells, their senses forsook them.
