The Pilgrim Kamanita by Karl Gjellerup — Read

A little behind the eastern wall of Kosambi lies a beautiful sinsapa wood which is, strictly speaking, a sacred grove. In an open glade the sanctuary yet stands, though in a sadly dilapidated condition. It is long since any sacrificial service has taken place in this ancient fane, because Krishna, to whom it is dedicated, has had a magnificent and much larger temple built to him in the town itself. In the ruin, however, dwelt, besides a pair of owls, a holy woman, who enjoyed the reputation of having relations with spirits, by whose help she was able to look into the future -- insight which the good soul did not withhold from such of her fellow-creatures as brought votive offerings. Such persons made pilgrimages to her in large numbers, among them, and particularly after sunset, being young folks of both sexes, who were, or fancied themselves, in love, and there were not lacking malicious tongues which asserted that the old woman should rather be called a female pander than a saint. However that may have been, this saintliness was just what we needed, and her little temple was chosen as the place for our meeting.

Next day I started with my ox-wagons, and took care that it should be at the hour when people were on their way to the bazaar or to the law-courts. In doing so, I intentionally chose the most frequented streets, so that my departure could not possibly remain hidden from my enemy Satagira. After but a few hours' travel, however, I halted in a large village and had my caravan go into night quarters there, to the no small delight of my people. Shortly before sunset, I myself mounted a fresh horse, and, wrapped in the coarse mantle of one of my servants, rode back to Kosambi, over the road we had just come.