She took unto herself ten forms each more awful than the last, and ten-headed she passed before Shiva, threatening and mocking. Till—“Go!” said Shiva; “Let happen what will happen.”
And Durga, a little fearfully, in that she had got at last her heart’s desire, arrayed herself in garments gorgeous and becoming, and made her way to her Mother’s house. And her Mother embraced her right gladly, so that a great contempt was in Durga’s heart for the trouble at which she had been in coming.
But the Mother said within herself: “It is well my Lord is away and busy, it is well ... else might he hurt this child of mine.”
Yet soon the question came: “And where is my Father?”
“At the Place of Sacrifice, where he makes a great feast,” said the gentle Mother. “Stay with me, my child; leave such-like things to the men-people.”
But Durga: “A Feast? Nay, then must I go and see” ... and she heeded nothing.
And Dokhio was furious, in that after all his insult would be robbed of point.
“Why art thou come hither?” he thundered. And she: “Because my Father’s daughters may not be kept from my Father’s Sacrifice.”
Then Dokhio cursed Shiva and all that belonged to him, which Durga hearing, passed out of life with grief inconsolable.
And Shiva, who had cared nothing for the slight to himself, revenged the death of his wife most mightily. He sent forth his lightning and consumed that great sacrifice ere they who were bidden had arrived to make it; and so the guests found nothing save charred wood, and a wizened old Dokhio with the head of a bearded goat.