Explore "The Pilgrim Kamanita" by Karl Gjellerup on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The whole night through I remained on the Terrace, the unresisting prey of passions, hitherto unknown to me, but which were now unchained, and which made sport of my heart as the whirlwind does of the leaf.
My Kamanita was still alive! He had heard, in his distant home, of my marriage, for otherwise he would have come long ago. How faithless -- or how pitilessly weak, must I appear in his eyes! And for this degradation of mine, Satagira was alone to blame. My hate for him grew more deadly with every passing minute, and deeply did I feel the truth of Angulimala's words, that, if I had been a man, I should have assuredly killed Satagira.