the din of their fighting was terrible to hear. But Ananda heeded them not. With a mighty staff she beat upon the mother-of-pearl door, all that night and the next day and the next, never pausing a moment, though she grew so weary she could scarcely stand or see. For seven days and seven nights she hammered on the door, and in the very last hour it began to give way beneath her blows. But in that hour her strength failed her, and she dropped exhausted and senseless to the ground and slept, unknowing, while the spirits carried away her beloved husband. When she came to herself again and found that he was gone, her grief knew no bounds.
"But weeping will do no good!" she said to herself at last. "I will rise up and search for my prince, though I have to go to the ends of the world to find him!"
So, drying her eyes, she took a stout staff in her hand and set forth at once, though she still ached with weariness and knew not which way to turn first.
