The hour strikes, O pilgrim!

It is time for you to take the parting of the ways!

His face will be unveiled once again and you shall meet.



XLIII

Over the relic of Lord Buddha King Bimbisâr built a shrine, a
salutation in white marble.

There in the evening would come all the brides and daughters of
the King's house to offer flowers and light lamps.

When the son became king in his time he washed his father's creed
away with blood, and lit sacrificial fires with its sacred books.

The autumn day was dying. The evening hour of worship was near.

Shrimati, the queen's maid, devoted to Lord Buddha, having bathed
in holy water, and decked the golden tray with lamps and fresh
white blossoms, silently raised her dark eyes to the queen's
face.

The queen shuddered in fear and said, "Do you not know, foolish
girl, that death is the penalty for whoever brings worship to
Buddha's shrine?