not seemly for a nun to travel alone. But I did not need to seek long for a companion. Just at this time Somadatta came to a sad end. His passion for the fatal dice had gradually enslaved him, and after gambling away all his substance he drowned himself in the Gunga. Medini, deeply distressed by her loss, now entered the Order. It was perhaps not so much the religious life itself, in all its strict severity, and with its lofty aims, that drew her irresistibly to this sacred grove, as the need she felt to be always in my neighbourhood; for her childlike heart clung with touching fidelity to me. And so I did not doubt that when I revealed my purpose to her, she would go with me to Ujjeni—yes, if need be, to the end of the world. Even already her company in many ways helped to rouse me; while I, on the other hand, by comforting words, softened her genuine grief for the loss of her husband.
As the time approached when Angulimala's return might be expected, I went every afternoon to the southwest edge of the wood, and sat, down under a beautiful tree on some rising ground whence I could follow with my eye to a great distance the road he would be obliged to take. I imagined he would reach the goal of his journey towards evening.
I kept watch there for some days in vain, but was quite prepared to be obliged to wait for a whole month. On the eighth day, however, when the sun was already so low that I had to shade my eyes with my hand, I became aware of a form in the distance approaching the wood. I presently saw the gleam of a yellow cloak, and as the figure passed a woodcutter going homeward, it was easy to see that it belonged to a man of unusual stature. It was indeed Angulimala—alone. My Kamanita he had
