THOSE WHO struck Him once in the name of their rulers, are born again in this present age. They gather in their prayer-halls in a pious garb, they call their soldiers, 'Kill, Kill', they shout; in their roaring mingles the music of their hymns, while the Son of Man in His agony prays, 'O God, fling, fling far away this cup filled with the bitterest of poisons.'
WITH THE morning he came out to walk a road shaded by a file of deodars, that coiled the hill round like importunate love. He held the first letter from his newly wedded wife in their village home, begging him to come to her, and come soon. The touch of an absent hand haunted him as he walked, and the air seemed to take up the cry of the letter: 'Love, my love, my sky is brimming with tears!' He asked himself in wonder, 'How do I deserve this?' The sun suddenly appeared over the rim of the blue hills, and four girls from a foreign shore came with swift strides, talking loud and followed by a barking dog. The two elder turned away to conceal their amusement at something strange in his insignificance, and the younger ones pushed each other, laughed aloud, and ran off in exuberant mirth. He stopped and his head sank. Then he suddenly felt his letter, opened and read it again.
