But rest was not yet for him. By degrees he was seized with a great restlessness of mind and body. He tossed and turned, nor was able to shut his eyes, which stared wide into the light-streaked gloom. His brain burned, and was filled with chaotic visions. The spirit of Churi moved close beside him; and he chilled with dread. Where was the calm of his former high estate? Alas! It had of late become a mockery. On his breast the ruby burned; and at length he took it out and gazed at it by the light of the fire. Again it brought upon him strange thoughts, bathed him in a stream of remembrances so vivid that he felt himself of another life. Under this influence, after a long time, he fell asleep, only to find his dreams taking the same direction as his waking visions. He found himself standing on a great eminence, a vast plateau, rising sheer out of a fertile plain. Behind him were rice-fields, trees, running water, and vast buildings. He was standing with his back to one of these buildings, which was half hidden in clustering tamarinds and bamboo; and the structure was called, in his dream, the water-palace. In the dying light of day he stood there, looking down over the far plain, to a broad river that rushed through the fields. His old calm was upon him, for he was at home. This, he perceived, was the land of his desire, the place where he should find welcome and rest. And so the vision faded and his sleep became dreamless. When he awoke, the morning was well along. He found that he still clasped the ruby in his right hand; and, returning it to its box, he prepared to go about the duties of his day. He was determined now to force himself to a long period of reflection, as a remedy for the restlessness brought about by recent happenings. But, to his great disturbance, he found his determination easier made than carried out. True, he meditated. Long habit had not so basely deserted him. But his meditations were no longer satisfying, and, when they were over, the dreaded mood, a restless loneliness, an unquenchable yearning, crept upon him again, till he soothed himself anew with thoughts of the ruby, the power of which never failed. All this could end only in one way. For three weeks longer he dwelt on his height; and then, suddenly abandoning a useless battle, made ready to leave the mountain top. At dawn of a December day he stood for the last time on the summit where he had dwelt for so many years; and then, at last, not without a pang of regret, he turned his steps downward, toward the haunts of men. CHAPTER XII MANDU IN MALWA