Thus 'they roamed in shadowy moonlight, rested here in softened shadows, chanting love-songs to each other, knowing naught but pure delight, till a-wearied with her roaming, Rādhā begged to cool her feet in the smiling waves of Jumnā, that she spied there in the moonlight. Krishna, greatest of all lovers, lightly stooped to lift the maiden, and in loving arms to bear her where the smiling waters rippled. But within the breast of Rādhā, at that act, pride sprang to being, and within that home of Love vanity crept and nestled there. For a moment Krishna held her, then with lightning swiftness from her side He vanished. But in that twinkle of a moment Rādhā knew what her sin was and, aware of her enemy, the selfless love, which was her Self, her deity supreme, arose and quenched all thirst of vanity. Quickly gliding through the forest, she again did join the Gopis, spying in the further distance Krishna soothing one and all. To His side she lightly stepped, she, the radiant, she. His Heaven-Mate, purged from sin and lightly clothed with the love that knew but Him. CHAPTER XXVI. While the land of Brindāban was rich in the love which Krishna flooded it withal, the heart of Kangsa, the brother of Devaki, was filled with fear for his life; for it was known to his quaking heart that the eighth child of Devaki still walked the earth, and also he knew that writ it was that the hand of that child would lay him low. Far and wide he sought the child, the boy, whom he felt was the God who had come to bring to the virtuous and lowly man peace, and sweep from the land the oppressor and tyrant. The marvelous deeds of Sree Krishna, his beauty and strength, the might of his love, had been heralded far and wide, and all the then known world was turned towards the forest land of Brindāban with expectant eye and thirsting heart. For ever the heart of man doth pant for and turn to the place where love doth dwell. When tales of Krishna's wonderful life and glorious deeds came to the ears of Kangsa, he felt that the boy whom Yasodā and Nanda reared as their own, in sweet Brindāban, was the child that he sought to kill when it came from the womb of Devaki, and when by the hand of fate itself he had been baffled. And the dull, hungry flame of hatred and anger rose like fire in this bad man's heart, and an atmosphere as of hell about him rose, and all his peace slipped to the dust, and his secret fear that like a coiled serpent had lain in silence now uncurled its length and lifted its head and darted here and there to strike the prey that aroused it from its slumber.