This sight of Him made the _bhaktas_ very life go out of their bodies. Then Swarup with all the disciples loudly dinned the name of Krishna into the Master's ears. After a long while the name entered His heart, and He shouted _Hari-bol!_ He became conscious and His limbs were joined to His trunk again, as before. This miracle of the Master has been reported by Raghunath-das in his _Chaitanya-staba-kalpa-briksha_. As Raghunath-das always lived with the Master, I accept as true and write here what I have heard from him. One day the Master, on the way to the sea, suddenly looked at the Chatak hillock, and taking it to be the Govardhan hill, He ran towards it in rapture with the speed of the wind. Govinda could not overtake Him. A hue and cry was raised and there was a great bustle. Everyone ran up from where he was,--Swarup, Jagadananda, Gadadhar, Rámái, Nandái, Nilái Pandit, Shankar Puri, Bhárati Goswámi, all went to the sea-shore. The lame Bhagabán Achárya hobbled slowly behind. After running at first like the wind, the Master suddenly became stiff on the way, unable to move further. Every pore of His skin swelled like a boil, the hair stood on end on them like the _kadamba_ flower. Blood ran out of His pores like sweat. His throat gurgled, not a syllable could He utter. Ceaseless tears ran down both His cheeks He lost colour and became death-pale like a conch-shell. Then a quivering burst over His frame like a tempest on the bosom of the sea. Trembling, He fell down on the ground, and then Govinda came up with Him, sprinkled Him with water from the flask, and fanned Him with his sheet. Swarup and the rest now arrived and all began to weep at the Master's plight. They loudly sang the _kirtan_ in His hearing and sprinkled Him with cold water. After they had done so many times, He rose up with the cry of _Hari-bol!_ The Vaishnavs in delight shouted _Hari! Hari!_ The sound of joy rose up from all sides. Half-conscious again, the Master addressed Swarup, "You have brought me back from Govardhan to here. You have snatched me away from viewing Krishna's lilá among the herds of cows and calves, Radha and her handmaids, on Govardhan hill Why have you brought me away thence, only to cause me grief?" So saying, He wept, and the Vaishnavs wept at His plight. Thus did the Master live at Niláchal, plunging day and night in the ocean of grief at separation from Krishna. In the early autumn nights radiant with the moon in a cloudless sky, He roamed up and down with His disciples, visiting garden after garden in delight and reciting or listening to the songs of _rása lilá_. At times, overcome with love, He danced and sang; at other times He imitated the _rása lilá_ in that mood; at times in a transport of passion He ran hither and thither, at others He rolled on the ground in a faint. As soon as He recollected a verse of the _rása lilá_ He expounded it.