The young ascetic was walking in the lonely street, while
overhead the lovesick koels urged from the mango branches
their sleepless plaint.

Upagupta passed through the city gates, and stood at the base of
the rampart.

What woman lay in the shadow of the wall at his feet, struck with
the black pestilence, her body spotted with sores, hurriedly
driven away from the town?

The ascetic sat by her side, taking her head on his knees, and
moistened her lips with water and smeared her body with balm.

"Who are you, merciful one?" asked the woman.

"The time, at last, has come to visit you, and I am here,"
replied the young ascetic.



XXXVIII

This is no mere dallying of love between us, my lover.

Again and again have swooped down upon me the screaming nights of
storm, blowing out my lamp: dark doubts have gathered, blotting
out all stars from my sky.