"I need not dwell on the pitiable story. Gaining the open country, I gazed upon the fierce flames now bursting in a dozen places from the roof of my doomed home, the funeral pyre of the last ones dear to me on earth.
"As I gazed I rent my garments, and raised my voice in loud lamentations. Soon all was consumed, and there remained only the dull glow of red embers. Then I wandered out into the night, stupefied and broken-hearted by the crowning calamity that had overtaken me, afraid even to face my neighbours of the village, naked, penniless, and alone.
"Thus did it come about that I, a man of estate, feudatory of a prince, within the period of a single moon lost wives and children, slaves and retainers, land and crops and cattle, family jewels, stores of gold and of silver, and also the blue diamonds of the idol for the retention of which I had rashly but unknowingly ventured all that I had of happiness in this world.
"And since that day of final disaster I have journeyed over the face of the land trying to find, not the blue diamonds, not my stolen hoard, but that fiend incarnate, the priest of Siva, who slew my wives and children.
"I go about, now a Moslem fakir with the right of entry to the mosques where I may worship the only true God and Mohammed his prophet, now disguised as a Hindu yogi, crying 'Ram, Ram,' so that I may gain access to the temples of the idolators, there to find the Ganapati with the jewelled eyes, and by that token discover the man for whom I am ever seeking. Every year I revisit Ferishtapur, whence the idol was originally taken by my hand from the wrecked temple, but thither neither the priest nor the Ganapati has ever returned. At other times I travel from one city to another, searching for temples, mingling with the devotees at the recurring festivals, the Holi, the Durgapuga, the feast of lanterns, and watching the processions when the idols and their custodians visit each other's shrines or go to the river for the blessing of the waters. But wander where I may, priest or Ganapati have I never seen again.
"Thus have passed fifty long years, during which I have lived for one thing alone, and that----revenge!"
Pausing before the last word, then uttering it in a scream that pierced the night air, the fakir sprang to his feet, and, swept by a sudden gust of overmastering passion, raised his hands high to heaven--a weird and eerie figure in the silver sheen of the moon.