That longs for home!—
A bundle of sorrow, weeping for the light
That stretches out its radiant arms in vain
And yearns for me!’”
—Gerhardt Hauptmann, “The Sunken Bell,” Act V.
CHAPTER I
THE SON OF GOKARNA
It was July; and in Bul-Ruknu, Vindhya-sheltered, the rains were over. From now till September one could but avoid the open sunlight and sleep as much as the human system would permit. This afternoon the heat poured blindly over the mud and bamboo village, and even animals and children had deserted the streets and sought shelter from the molten sky. One woman, her head and body wrapped round in bright-colored cotton, darted out of the close veranda of her own dwelling and hurried swiftly down the street toward the spot where, set a little off by itself, stood the largest and best-built house in the town. Entering the veranda of this she found seated there, on a pile of straw cushions, her half-sister, Kota, wife of Gokarna, the head-man, and at the same time, which was unusual, chief priest of Siva, the village deity.
Greetings passed between the two; and Kota, causing her sister to sit beside her, clapped her hands for a slave who presently appeared in the doorway, a timid, unkempt girl of fifteen.
“Bring us fruits, Jensa,” commanded her mistress. Then, as the girl disappeared, she turned to Hilka: “’Tis six days since I have seen thee. Are thy gods propitious?”
“Yesterday, at sacrifice, the omens for the harvest were bad. But Gokarna has told thee that. How art thou?”