river; but the trees, being surrounded by myriads of fireflies,
looked like artificial trees studded with diamonds. The lightning
goddess also still sent quick flashes through the now silent black and
white clouds. A woman's anger does not die away suddenly. The
assembled frogs, rejoicing in the newly fallen rain, held high
festival; and if you listened attentively the voice of the cricket
might be heard, like the undying crackle of Ravana's[1] funeral pyre.
Amid the sounds might be distinguished the fall of the rain-drops on
the leaves of the trees, and that of the leaves into the pools
beneath; the noise of jackals' feet on the wet paths, occasionally
that of the birds on the trees shaking the water from their drenched
feathers, and now and then the moaning of the almost subdued wind.
Presently Nagendra saw a light in the distance. Traversing the flooded
earth, drenched by the drippings from the trees, and frightening away
the jackals, he approached the light; and on nearing it with much
difficulty, saw that it proceeded from an old brick-built house, the
door of which was open. Leaving his servant outside, Nagendra entered
the house, which he found in a frightful condition.

[Footnote 1: King of Lanka (Ceylon), whose remains were to burn
without ceasing.]

It was not quite an ordinary house, but it had no sign of prosperity.
The door-frames were broken and dirty; there was no trace of human
occupation--only owls, mice, reptiles, and insects gathered there.
The light came only from one side. Nagendra saw some articles of
furniture for human use; but everything indicated poverty. One or two
cooking vessels, a broken oven, three or four brass dishes--these were
the sole ornaments of the place. The walls were black; spiders' webs
hung in the corners; cockroaches, spiders, lizards, and mice,