There was an old woman in China who had supported a monk for over twenty years.
She had built a little hut for him and fed him while he was meditating, finally
she wondered just what progress he had made in all this time.
To find out, she obtained the help of a girl rich in desire. “Go and embrace
him,” she told her, “and then ask him suddenly: “What now?”
The girl called upon the monk and without much ado caressed him, asking him what
he was going to do about it.
“An old tree grows on a cold rock in winter,’” replied the monk somewhat
poetically. “Nowhere is there any warmth.”
The girl returned and related what he had said.
“To think I fed that fellow for twenty years!” exclaimed the old woman in anger.
“He showed no consideration for your need, no disposition to explain your
condition. He need not have responded to passion, but at least he should have
evidenced some compassion.”
She at once went to the hut of the monk and burned it down.