She gave a slight start, and, drawing the end of her sári over her
face, she sat down on the step at the Sanyasi's feet, and wept.
He moved a little away, and said: 'Tell me what you have in your
heart, and I shall show you the way to peace.'
She replied in a tone of unshaken faith, stopping now and then for
words: 'If you bid me, I must speak out. But, then, I cannot explain
it clearly. You, Master, must have guessed it all. I adored one as a
god, I worshipped him, and the bliss of that devotion filled my heart
to fulness. But one night I dreamt that the lord of my heart was
sitting in a garden somewhere, clasping my right hand in his left,
and whispering to me of love. The whole scene did not appear to me at
all strange. The dream vanished, but its hold on me remained. Next day
when I beheld him he appeared in another light than before. That
dream-picture continued to haunt my mind. I fled far from him in
fear, and the picture clung to me. Thenceforth my heart has known
no peace,--all has grown dark within me!'
While she was wiping her tears and telling this tale, I felt that the
Sanyasi was firmly pressing my stone surface with his right foot.
Her speech done, the Sanyasi said:
'You must tell me whom you saw in your dream.'