Yes, there he rose before us, the mountain of mountains, the place of eternal snows, the abode of the gods, the resting-place of the holy ones! The Himavat—even in childhood this name had filled me with feelings of deep fear and reverence, with a mysterious prescience of the Sublime One! How often had I heard in legends and tales the sentence—"And he betook himself to the Himavat and lived the life of an ascetic there!" Thousands upon thousands had climbed these heights—seekers after salvation—in order amid the loneliness of the mountains to reach eternal happiness by means of their penance—each with his own special delusion; and now He was approaching—the One Being, among them all, free from delusion—He whose footsteps we were following.
As I stood there, lost in thought, the luminous picture was suddenly extinguished, as though heaven had absorbed it into itself.
I felt myself, however, so wonderfully animated and strengthened by the sight that I no longer thought of rest.
"Even if the Master," I said to Medini, "were to precede us to yonder summit in order to pass from that lofty station to the highest of the regions above, I would yet follow and reach him."
And, full of courage, I walked on. We had not, however, been half an hour on the way when suddenly the undergrowth ceased, and cultivated land lay before us. It was already quite dark and the full moon rose large and glowing above the wood which lay opposite when we at last reached Kusinara.
It was really not much more than a village of the Mallas with walls and houses of stamped clay and wicker-work. My first impression was that a devastating sickness must
