hiding himself in your house. I must have him back."
His eyes dilated and distorted mouth, the old man leaned forward and exclaimed: "Your boy?"
"Yes, my boy Gokul. He is Nitai Pal now, and I myself go by the name of Damodar Pal. Your fame has spread so widely in the neighbourhood, that we were obliged to cover up our origin, lest people should have refused to pronounce our names."
Slowly the old man lifted both his arms above his head. His fingers began to twitch convulsively, as though he was trying to catch hold of some imaginary object in the air. He then fell on the ground.
When he came to his senses again, he dragged his son towards the ruined temple. When they were both inside it, he said: "Do you hear any wailing sound?"
"No, I don't," said Brindaban.
"Just listen very carefully. Do you hear anybody calling out 'Father'?"
"No."
This seemed to relieve him greatly.
From that day forward, he used to go about ask-
