Thus ended Oman’s first visit to the tomb: an incident that brought much into his life. It proved the beginning of intangible things that carried changes in their train. There was at first a new relaxation of mind; for it seemed as if some final touch had been put upon his own existence. Less than ten miles away was his own resting-place, waiting his coming. He knew this intuitively; and it seemed to him that, however long he should still live, there could be no further pilgrimage for him. His life at Mandu was not for a mere Vassa season. He had attained his Arahatship; and need not any longer dread the privation months each year. During the following summer Oman went twice, alone, to the tomb; each time spending the night there and returning, next day, on foot. What he did in those times, or why he went, no one knew. But he had been given a key to the temple doors, and men might see, if they wished, that he carried it always in his girdle. Zenaide once ventured to ask him of the purpose of his journeys, and he smiled, and answered her: “I go there to pray to the great Brahma for two erring souls.” “The souls of the Ranee and the slave who were drowned together?” Oman bent his head. “And dost thou not think, O Oman, that for such sinful ones there must be hundreds of reincarnations to expiate their crimes?” “Was there happiness enough in their sin to repay a thousand years of suffering?” he asked, bitterly. “Nay, woman, I tell thee that thirty years of sorrow and struggle hath more than paid—more than paid! There is a strict justice over all things. The Divine Soul alone knows the real measure of happiness and misery meted out to each of us. He also knows in how much the crime carries with it its punishment.” “Thou art a strange man, Oman,” she answered, looking at him curiously. “Sometimes I could think thee mad if thou wast not so—so assured. Whence come these thoughts of thine? Art thou inspired?” “Nay, Zenaide. Knowledge must come to all who, by bitterness and tears, have drawn near the infinite. Suffering brings much beauty to the soul. I begin to think that men shun it too much.” And then Oman smiled, and went away, fearing lest he had spoken too plainly to one who, through her nature, might understand.