There was once an old woman, who supported a monk for more than twenty years. She had taken the trouble to build him a small hut, for his both his lodging and meditation. She even offered him food for his meals. One day, she decided to test him for what he's worth, so as to know the progress of his spiritual cultivation. This she did by getting a girl who desired much to make love to go forth and embrace him. The girl did as she was told. Caressing him, she asked him what he was going to do about it. To that, he poetically replied, 'An old tree grows on a cold rock in winter. Nowhere is there any warmth.' When the girl recalled his reply to the old woman, she angrily exclaimed, 'To think I fed that fellow for twenty years! He showed no consideration for your need, no disposition to explain your condition. He need not have responded to passion, but at least he could have showed some compassion.' With that, she went to his hut and torched it down.