have depopulated the little township. At the doors of the houses sat several old and sick people who wailed loudly.
We asked them what had happened.
"Ah!" they exclaimed, wringing their hands. "Soon, all too soon, the Master dies. This very hour, the light of the world will be extinguished. The Mallas have gone to the Sala grove to see and worship the Sacred One. For, shortly before sunset, Ananda came into out town and betook himself to the market where the Mallas were debating a public matter, and said: 'This very day, before the hour of midnight, O Mallas, the Master will enter Nirvana. See that ye do not later have to reproach yourselves, saying: "In our town, a Buddha died, and we did not take advantage of the opportunity to visit the Perfect One in his last hours."' Upon which all of the Mallas with their wives and children went out moaning and lamenting to the Sala grove. We, however, are too old and weak; we are obliged to remain behind here, and cannot worship the Master in his last hours."
We immediately had the way from the town to the Sala grove pointed out to us, but, finding it already filled with crowds of returning Mallas, we preferred to hurry across the fields, towards a corner-of the little wood.
As we reached it we saw a monk leaning against the trunk of a tree and weeping. Deeply affected, I stopped, and at that instant he raised his face towards heaven. The full moonlight fell upon the pain-filled lineaments, and I recognised Ananda.
"Then I have arrived too late—ah me!" I said to myself, and I felt my strength leaving me.
Just then, however, I heard a rustling in the bush, and
