he looked. A change had come over both flowers and figures.
Again he directed a searching glance upon his own lotus. One of the petals in the corona seemed to become alive—slowly it bent itself forward and fell loose upon the surface of the water.
But it did not fall alone.
At the same instant a crown petal was loosened from every lotus flower—the whole expanse of water glittered and trembled, and, as it rose and fell, gently rocked the dainty, coloured fleet on its bosom. Through the groves on the bank went a breath of frost; and a shower of blossoms, like sparkling jewels, fell to the ground.
A sigh was wrung from every breast, and a low but cutting disharmony traversed the music of the heavenly genii.
"Vasitthi, my love!" exclaimed Kamanita, seizing her hand in deep agitation, "dost thou see? Dost thou hear? What is this? What can it mean?"
Vasitthi, however, looked at him, calmly smiling.
"This was in His mind, when He said—
"'To be born is to die; all-destroying, oblivion's breath holds sway;
As in gardens of Earth, flowers of Paradise fade, and pass away.'"
"Who is the author of that frightful, hope-destroying utterance?"
"Who but He, the Perfect One, the proved in life and in knowledge; who, out of pity for men, makes clear the doctrine, for the enlightenment of all of us, and the comfort of each one; who reveals to us the world with its beings—noble and degraded—its troops of gods, men, and demons; the Guide who shows the way out of this
