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verging on ugly, but rich with the potential of many different kinds of harmonies emerging from the early stages of the manifestation of a personality. There was something about her that was rare, special, hidden, waiting. Something fine, clear, like a cloudy uncertain dawn that, to the trained eye, already hints at an especially brilliant day.
    Our hero didn't fall in love with her at first sight. Nor did she notice him. She was like a swan in infancy, all clumsy, out of colour, perplexed, seeing things all wrong. How unpromising excellent things are in their youth. How awkward true beauty seems in its early stages. Who could tell that a butterfly would emerge from such a mess of matter that is a caterpillar? She was such a creature, all at sixes and sevens, at odds with her own unique spirit growing within her. And yet her eyes, how clearly they revealed the presence of diamonds within. Except that the young all have clear eyes. But hers had a touch of heaven. He didn't notice. He saw her as a sign.

CHAPTER FOUR
    He called to her from his hiding place, and she started, and fell. He was silent. She looked about her, and saw nothing. She got up and fetched more water from the river. As she was leaving he called her again, and she jumped. It seemed to her that the spirits of the land were addressing her. Or that she had heard the goddess of the sea. This was a sign for her that she was about to die, as a mark of special favour.
    'But I have not lived yet,' she said out aloud, as if pleading for clemency.
    'You will live now,' he said, enjoying this game of destiny.
    'What am I to do?'
    'Answer my three questions then you can live.'
    She put down the bucket, and then fell on her knees.
    'I am ready,' she said, with tears in her voice.
    He laughed to himself in his hiding place among the wild flowers on the border of his kingdom.
    'First,' he said, in his strange disguised voice, 'where does the river end?'
    'In the wisdom of God,' she replied, humbly.
    He was startled by the answer. He stayed silent a while. The wind blew enchantments over them. The river yielded the lights of the sky. Spirits converged at the river's edge to witness a special moment in time. Unborn children hovered over that potent space above her head. Invisible story-tellers held their breaths. Those who wander in dreams paused there, to drink in the mood of magic.
    'Second,' he said, more sternly, 'where does all our suffering end?'
    'In the happiness that lies beyond all things,' she replied, as if in a trance.
    He caught his breath. For the first time in his life he knew that deep inside agony there is a sweetness that is beyond compare. Only those who venture into such a dark find such a light. Deep in the pain is beauty from the high mountains of the sublime. How can it be? What fruit would give bitterness and reserve such impossible richness in its core, in its seed that is tough as diamond? The world's puzzle shone around him. The river shone with gold and silver showers from the sun. Is the air so rich with the vitality that makes new life? He breathed in enchantments, and the air he breathed changed the initiated man within into something rested, settled, and forming, as an angel crystallises into a child. Dreamers all around, lingering in that ancient mood, felt the happy sunlight above their houses. Spirits were in a mood of delight. Time converged here. Such lovely moments pipe an eternal happiness all over the world, through all time, wherever it is needed, and can be reached, by the fortunate, or those who know.
    He spoke like an oracle now, except not giving, but asking. He said:
    'And finally, what are we all seeking?'
    'The kingdom,' she replied, 'which we are in already, which we have got, and which is our home.'
    The answer seemed so appropriate that he was astonished. He fell into a deep silence in which he was borne by the wind and the fragrance of mysterious flowers into a dim realm where, for a moment, he glimpsed a strange white horse