true of that land;' and 'That we shall not rise again' is also not true. Any appellation by which thou dost make anything whatsoever tangible, and capable of being grasped, is untrue there."
"But what is the value to me of that which I cannot grasp?"
"Rather ask, is that which can be grasped, worth stretching out one's hand for?"
"Ah, Vasitthi, I verily believe I must at some time have murdered a Brahman or committed some similar crime that pursued me so cruelly with its retribution in the little street of Rajagriha. For if I had not been so precipitately thrust out of life there, I should have sat at the Master's feet, and would also assuredly have been present, as thou wert, at his Nirvana, and now I would have been as thou art. But come, Vasitthi—while thought and perception are yet ours, do this for love of me. Describe the Perfect One to me exactly, in order that I may see him in spirit, and thereby obtain what was not vouchsafed to me on earth. That will surely bring me peace."
"Gladly, my friend," answered Vasitthi. And she described to him the appearance of the Buddha, feature by feature, forgetting not the smallest detail.
But in a tone of deep discontentment, Kamanita said—
"Oh! Of what use are descriptions! What thou now sayest, could, all of it, just as well have been said of that old ascetic, of whom I have told thee that I spent the night with him in the hall of a potter at Rajagriha, and who, I imagine, was not quite so foolish as I believed, for he indeed, as I now perceive, said much that was true. Well then, Vasitthi, don't tell me anything more, but picture the Perfect One in spirit till thou seest him as when
