arose--how cremate him within the limits of the 49 cubits and yet
outside the house? At length the priests decided that though we
could not go beyond the scriptural number, the only way out of
the difficulty was to reverse the figure and make it 94 cubits;
only thus could we cremate him outside the house without
violating the sacred books. My word, that was strict observance!
Ours is indeed no common country.

BHAVADATTA. And yet, though Janardan comes from the very same
soil, he thinks it wise to declare that open highways are best
for a country.

[Enter GRANDFATHER with a band of boys]

GRANDFATHER. Boys, we will have to vie with the wild breeze of
the south to-day--and we are not going to be beaten. We will
sing till we have flooded all streets with our mirth and song.

SONG.

/*
The southern gate is unbarred. Come, my spring, come!
Thou wilt swing at the swing of my heart, come, my spring,
come!
Come in the lisping leaves, in the youthful surrender of
flowers;
Come in the flute songs and the wistful sighs of the woodlands!
Let your unfastened robe wildly flap in the drunken wind!
Come, my spring, come!
*/