ing in the darkness.

Behind the corpse came three Indians, and then, a full head taller than
themselves and wrapped in an ample traveling coat of a soft gray color,
appeared the outline of an Englishman, a kind and superior man, a friend
of theirs, who was their guide and counselor in their European travels.

Beneath the cold, misty sky of this little northern beach I felt as if
I were taking part in a sort of symbolical drama. It seemed to me that
they were carrying there, before me, the conquered genius of India,
followed, as in a funeral procession, by the victorious genius of
England robed in a gray ulster.

On the shingly beach the four bearers halted a few moments to take
breath, and then proceeded on their way. They now walked quickly,
bending beneath the weight of their burden. At length they reached the
funeral pile. It was erected in an indentation, at the very foot of
the cliff, which rose above it perpendicularly a hundred meters high,
perfectly white but looking gray in the night.

The funeral pile was about three and a half feet high. The corpse was
placed on it and then one of the Indians asked to have the pole star
pointed out to him. This was done, and the dead Rajah was laid with his
feet turned towards his native country. Then twelve bottles of kerosene
were poured over him and he was covered completely with thin slabs
of pine wood. For almost another hour the relations and servants kept
piling up the funeral pyre which looked like one of those piles of wood
that carpenters keep in their yards. Then on top of this was poured the
contents of twenty bottles of oil, and on top of all they emptied a bag
of fine shavings. A few steps further on, a flame was glimmering in a
little bronze brazier, which had remained lighted since the arrival of
the corpse.

The moment had arrived. The relations went to fetch the fire. As it was
barely alight, some oil was poured on it, and suddenly a flame arose
lighting up the great wall of rock from summit to base. An Indian who
was leaning over the brazier rose upright, his two hands in the air, his
elbows bent, and all at once we saw arising, all black on the immense
white cliff, a colossal shadow, the shadow of Buddha in his hieratic
posture. And the little pointed toque that the man wore on his head even
looked like the head-dress of the god.

The effect was so striking and unexpected that I felt my heart beat as
though some supernatural apparition had risen up