“Thou shalt have it, maiden,” said the hag; “thou knowest how to solicit a boon. Silence Parvati,” she said to the dog, which was again beginning to howl, “canst thou not distinguish the voice of a friend--peace, churl! What wouldst thou?” “I would know of the future, mother, into which thy dim eye can pierce with the clearness of a star. I stand upon this world as upon a pinnacle in the midst of a blasted wilderness, whence I can behold nothing but sterility beneath, and vague unfathomable distance above.” “Those who would know of the future, child, must buy the knowledge at a heavier cost than a meal of rice.” Yhahil threw another gold mohur in the sybil’s lap. “You are a liberal probationer, and deserve a good reckoning in this life, and a happy change in the better. Follow me, and you shall know more.” Saying this she entered the cavern, and the dog limped after her. The entrance was so narrow as to admit only one person at a time. Yhahil followed the old woman undauntedly, but when she stood within the cave her heart sickened. It was so dark that, three yards beyond the entrance, all was involved in impenetrable gloom. The pythoness was no longer visible, but her hoarse cracked voice was audible through the intense darkness of the cell, the rugged sides of which reverberated it with so terrible an echo, that the terrified girl started, sickened, and would have fallen; but drawing a deep sigh she brushed the gathering dews from her forehead, and in another moment had braced her mind to the necessary pitch of high resolve that defied all future suggestions of terror. “Now tell me,” cried the crone, “what you especially seek to know.” “I am a Pariah, mother.” “That I need not be told, nor how the Pariah became rich. The eye that looks beyond the confines of this world can be no stranger to what passes within them.” “Can you read my thoughts?” “Ay;--thou wouldst marry a man of caste, but that may not be; yet shalt thou wed.” “Never, I would sooner perish than wed a Pariah.” “That thou wilt not do, and yet marry. Brahma never brought so comely a creature into this world to discredit his creation. Thou wilt be a propagator of beautiful sons and daughters; but I must look more closely to the lines of thy face through the darkness that now surrounds thee, before I can obtain a true sign of thy destiny. I must read the stars too, and that can only be done at night. Come to-morrow by this time, and thou shalt hear more; but let thy sleep be gentle: there is already a fair augury for thee. Parvati, conduct the Pariah to the light.” The dog immediately trotted from the dark extremity of the cavern, and, placing itself just without the entrance, gave a single short bark.