ogether. Through the rich gloom we could see far distant
forests and lights, the lights of village and city in King Suddhodana's
realm.

"Brothers," said Valmika, "how good it is to be here and not yonder in
the city, where they know not peace, even in sleep."

"Yonder and yonder," said Kedar, "I saw the inner air full of a red glow
where they were busy in toiling and strife. It seemed to reach up to me.
I could not breathe. I climbed the hill at dawn to laugh where the snows
were, and the sun is as white as they are white."

"But, brothers, if we went down among them and told them how happy we
were, and how the flower's grow on the hillside, they would surely come
up and leave all sorrow. They cannot know or they would come." Ananda
was a mere child, though so tall for his years.

"They would not come," said Kedar; "all their joy is to haggle and
hoard. When Siva blows upon them with angry breath they will lament, or
when the demons in fierce hunger devour them."

"It is good to be here," repeated Valmika, drowsily, "to mind the flocks
and be at rest, and to hear the wise Varunna speak when he comes among
us."

I was silent. I knew better than they that busy city which glowed beyond
the dark forests. I had lived there until, grown sick and weary, I
had gone back to my brothers on the hillside. I wondered, would life,
indeed, go on ceaselessly until it ended in the pain of the world. I
said within myself: "O mighty Brahma, on the outermost verges of thy
dream are our lives. Thou old invisible, how faintly through our hearts
comes the sound of thy song, the light of thy glory!" Full of yearning
to rise and return, I strove to hear in my heart the music Anahata,
spoken of in our sacred scrolls. There was silence and then I thought
I heard sounds, not glad, a myriad murmur. As I listened they
deepened--they grew into passionate prayer and appeal and tears, as if
the cry of the long-forgotten souls of men went echoing through empty
chambers. My eyes filled with tears, for it seemed world-wide and to
sigh from out many ages, long agone, to be and yet to be.

"Ananda! Ananda! Where is the boy running to?" cried Valmika. Ananda had
vanished in the gloom. We heard his glad laugh below, and then another
voice speaking. The tall figure of Varunna loomed up presently. Ananda
held his hand, and danced beside him. We knew the Yogi, and bowed
reverently before him. We could see by the starlight his simple robe of
white. I cou