He called out, "Who are you lying by the
roadside?" No one made reply. Again he asked. This time an indistinct
sound of distress caught his ear. Then the _Brahmachari_ laid his
umbrella and drinking-vessel on the ground, and extending his hands
began to feel about. Ere long he touched a soft body; then as his hand
came in contact with a knot of hair he exclaimed, "Oh, _Durga_, it is
a woman!"
Leaving umbrella and drinking-vessel, he raised the dying or senseless
woman in his arms, and, leaving the road, crossed the plain towards a
village; he was familiar with the neighbourhood, and could make his
way through the darkness. His frame was not powerful, yet he carried
this dying creature like a child through this difficult path. Those
who are strong in goodwill to others are not sensible of bodily
weakness.
Bearing the unconscious woman in his arms, the _Brahmachari_ stopped
at the door of a leaf-thatched hut at the entrance of the village, and
called to one within, "Haro, child, are you at home?"
A woman replied, "Do I hear the _Thakur's_ voice? When did the
_Thakur_ come?"
"But now. Open the door quickly; I am in a great difficulty."
Haro Mani opened the door.
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