?to which the front of the hoof-marks points? These soldiers have gone to Garmandaran," and Bimala was sad.
Presently the white grandeur of the temple of Saileshwara rose to the view. Bimala reflected that there was no necessity of the Brahmin's seeing the Prince;—nay, it was rather calculated to produce evil; and she was thinking how to get rid of him, when Gajapati himself furnished the cue.
The Brahmin again drew near Bimala's back, and caught hold of her apparel.
"What again?" asked she.
"How far is it to that?"
Bimala. "To what?"
Diggaja. "To that banian tree?"
Bimala. "Which banian tree, mean you?"
Diggaja. "Where yon espied the other day?"
Bimala. "Espied what?"
Diggaja. "It must be nameless at night."[1]
Understanding how matters stood, Bimala availed herself of the opportunity, and uttered in a deep voice,
"Oh!"
"What's the matter, I beseech you?" enquired the Brahmin, with consternation.
Bimala with her finger pointed at the banian tree near Saileshwara's temple, and said in a hushed voice,
"Yonder's the banian tree."
Diggaja did not move an inch more; in fact he was utterly incapable of proceeding any farther; and trembled like an aspen leaf.
- ↑ The prevailing superstition is, that the mention of ghosts at night brings them to the spot. This also holds in case of serpents.
