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. For this was Shiva’s little joke to keep the matter for ever in the mind of Durga’s Father, Dokhio. * * * * * We sat on the great quiet roof in the cow-dust hour while the latest Mother-in-law among us told the story. She meant it, I think, for the special benefit of Boho, the ten-year-old Bride; and she was gratified, for Boho caught her breath in great gusts at this bold coercion of a husband. Nothing did the story mean to her save that--punishment for such sacrilege. But Kamalamoni looked up smiling from a game with the household tyrant--her Nagendra--aged four. “It is not thus the story hath its ending,” she said. “Then tell the rest, Kamal.” But Kamal was better occupied. “And how calls the horse, my son? and how the dog? and the cat? and sheep? And,” roguishly--“and how the great grandmother when in anger?” Till she of many years claimed Nagendra as her fee for such impertinence and Kamala was forced to tell her tale. “And how should story end which wails no dirge for death of wife?” said Kamala, hotly. For opinion is but experience crystallized. “When Durga’s soul left her body thus early, it wandered to the mountains of snow, and finding on the threshold of sense, the empty house of a new-born babe, it entered it.” Uma was the name by which its parents chose to know the child; and Uma grew strong and beautiful, gentle and good, with no memory of Durga the Ten-Headed.... And, one day when she had come to her woman’s estate in our kingdom of life, and was playing with her waiting-woman among the swans beside the lotus-beds, an aged Priest-man appeared before her, and falling at her feet, said, “Durga Mother, thy Lord of Destruction fasts and prays sorrowing for thee: go and tend him.” And Uma ran to her mother, wrathful.... “An old Priest-man fell at my feet Mother,” she said, “and said unto me words which are not fit to be heard by me before my maidens.” So Uma’s Father went out forthwith, and finding Narod--for he it was, the Mischief Man turned Priest in old-age, he heard the wondrous God-news about his daughter. Shiva, it seemed lived a life of prayer and fasting--close by in the Cave of the Cow’s mouth.