y
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 before me.

That was just what it was--the ancient and sacred image, come from
the heart of the East to the ends of Europe, and watching over its son
whom they were going to cremate there.

It vanished. They brought fire. The shavings on top of the pyre were
lighted and then the wood caught fire and a brilliant light illumined the
cliff, the shingle and the foam of the waves as they broke on the beach.

It grew brighter from second to second, lighting