“Let us now go and cleanse ourselves at a fountain. Is that in the market-place the nearest?”
“No, my master. I will lead you to another, close at hand.”
“Come, then. And, as we walk, see that thou meditate upon this thought, which should now be with thee constantly: the extermination of desire for earthly things. For it is written in the book of the law: ‘Leaving all pleasures behind, calling nothing his own, let the wise man purge himself of troubles of the mind’.”
It was a fair morning. The sun was not yet above the horizon, but the whole eastern sky glowed fiery crimson in the clear atmosphere. Gay bird-notes filled the air; and a vagrant breeze shook the fragrance from every jessamine and honeysuckle vine in Bul-Ruknu. It was an ecstatic hour; and Hushka’s eyes were bright with the beauty of it when he and Oman reached the well. As the young man filled Hushka’s bowl with water, he turned to his master and said:
“The day, sir, is very fair. Does the Dharma forbid us to rejoice in the beauty of the dawn?”
Hushka lowered his eyes, and answered softly: “We are told that the extinction of feeling is the most desirable of all things. But, until that comes, I think it can hurt no man to rejoice at the sight of a sunrise sky.”
Their ablutions over, the two returned to the house of Gokarna, and found Kota standing in the veranda, anxiously awaiting them. She had prepared two large dishes of rice—a great luxury—and, as soon as they came up, bade them sit and eat. Oman helped his master to the fullest portion, and then ate his own from the wooden bowl in which it had been prepared. This dish Kota offered to her son, to be used for his alms; and Hushka himself thanked her for the gift to his pupil.
Oman, to his own surprise, found himself delaying the meal out of sorrow at thought of leaving this home. He had never in his life been more than twenty miles from Bul-Ruknu. Now, very probably, he should never see the town again: never again look on his mother, his father, or any of the familiar people among whom he had grown up. As he reflected on this, the spoon dropped from his hand, and he bent his head, conscious all the while that Hushka’s eyes were fixed on him. He was blind with tears which he was struggling furiously not to shed, when some one knelt beside him, and he felt two twining arms around his neck, and a long kiss on his cheek. A thrill ran through his heart. With passionate grief he returned his mother’s embrace. Then, breaking suddenly from her clasp, a “Farewell!” choking in his throat, he ran out of the veranda, down the street, and then halted, with clenched hands, till Hushka should come.
Presently the Bhikkhu joined him, walking rapidly; and Oman perceived that in his face there was no ridicule; only a mute sympathy. He carried with him the two bowls, each of which contained some rice which, he explained, they would keep for their midday meal. Oman took his own dish, asking to carry both, which he was not permitted to do. Side by side they went, through the narrow and ill-kept streets of the town, till at length they came to its outer wall, and passed out by the gate called after the street along which they had come: the street which, outside of Bul-Ruknu, became a public highway leading straight up into the Vindhyas.
“Ah! Go we up into the hills?” asked Oman, a note of joy in his voice.