Page:Karl Gjellerup - The Pilgrim Kamanita - 1911.djvu/174

 of joy that it really seemed to him as if he had hitherto been but a sad guest in a sad place—to such a degree did everything now appear to glow, to smell sweet, and to breathe music.

And as though his gaze, which had rested unwaveringly on the white lotus, had been a magician's wand for the raising of hidden treasures, the apex of the flower began to move, the petals bent their edges outward, drooping gracefully down on every side, and lo!—in their midst sat Vasitthi, with widely-opened eyes, whose sweetly smiling glance met his own.

Simultaneously Kamanita and Vasitthi stretched out their arms to one another, and hand in hand they floated away over the pond towards the bank.

Kamanita observed, of course, that Vasitthi had not as yet recognised him, but had only turned to him unconsciously as the sunflower to the sun. How should she have recognised him—seeing that no one, immediately on awaking, remembered anything of his previous life—even if, at sight of him, in the depths of her heart, dim presentiments might stir, as had happened in his own case when his neighbour spoke of the heavenly Gunga?

He showed her the gleaming river, which emptied itself noiselessly into the pond—

"In like fashion do the silver waters of the heavenly Gunga feed all the lakes in the fields of the Blest."

"The heavenly Gunga," she repeated questioningly, and drew her hand across her forehead.

"Come, let us go to the Coral Tree."

"But the grove and the shrubbery are so beautiful over there, and they are playing such delightful games," said Vasitthi, pointing in another direction.