words the earth trembled, as thou wilt thyself, probably, have noticed."
As a matter of fact, we had felt a slight earthquake in Kosambi about a month before I left the sacred grove, and this I now told her.
"Dost thou see," exclaimed the woman excitedly, "it has been felt—everywhere. The whole earth shook and the drums of the gods emitted groans as the Perfect One waived his claim to longer life. Ah! if that simpleminded Ananda had but understood in time the hint so plainly given him! For when, wakened by the earthquake from his self-absorption, he came back to the Master and begged that he would consent to remain alive for the rest of this world-period, the Master had of course already given his word to Mara, and had renounced his claim to longer life."
From these speeches of the pious but somewhat superstitious woman, I gathered that the Master had, during his stay in Vesali, felt symptoms of approaching death, and had, in all likelihood, told the disciples that he would shortly die.
So I could no longer bear to remain patiently under her hospitable roof. I must reach the Buddha before he should leave us. That had always been our one great comfort, that we were able to turn to him, the inexhaustible source of truth. He alone could solve all the doubts of my troubled soul; only he, out of all the world, was able to restore to me the peace which I had once tasted, as I sat at his feet, in front of the old temple of Krishna, in the Sinsapa wood at Kosambi.
So, when ten days had passed, and my strength made travelling to some extent possible, we started. My good hostess, whose conscience troubled her at allowing me to
