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with a golden horn in the middle of its forehead.
    When his mind cleared he saw that the girl was rising from her prayerful position, and he felt he had to say something while the mystery still held. He noticed though that there was a mist rising from the river. It was a white mist, like a shroud, or an unusual cloud, and some of its skeins seemed to float across towards the girl, obscuring her. He was suddenly afraid. Seized with a sense of immensity he had never felt before, and having the presence of mind to break through it, he said:
    'Come back here the same time tomorrow. Come alone.'
    The mist around her briefly cleared, and he saw her nodding. Then before he could think what else to do or say, she got up, snatched her bucket, and disappeared into the forest.

CHAPTER FIVE
    He left his hiding place and wandered the woods in this new mood of splendour, of faint shining terror, and a joy bordering on madness. What had come over him? He was addressing love songs to the birds and the trees, wrestling playfully with spirits in the air, laughing at dreams that floated past him, making jokes at wood sprites that he saw dancing in yellow clearings. The whole sky had become a love mood wherein he saw everything more clearly. Everything made sense. Everything was simple. And in the kingdom he saw himself everywhere, with all the people in the world, all as one.
    He wandered in this state, dreaming of the girl he had just seen, who was so clear to him in his mind that she seemed to accompany him. And he spoke to her, and sang, and laughed at the rich silence of her replies; and he remained spellbound by her liquid luminous eyes and her pale awkward face.
    The elders found him in this state, and fearing him to be unhinged they grappled with him and were surprised that he offered no resistance. They carried him home on their shoulders to the royal palace. He re-entered the village a different person, and saw it all anew, as if he were waking up from a deep sleep that had lasted all his life.

CHAPTER SIX
    In the palace the first thing he noticed were the slaves. Then he became aware of the numerous servants. Then he saw the many wives of his father. Then he saw his father. It was strange. He thought: who are all these people?
    'Are you well, my son?' his father asked.
    He stared at the imposing, fleshy, big and powerful face of his father, the king. He stared into the big, wise and sensuous eyes, at once alert and lazy, at once dangerous and complacent. The king did not smile. He never remembered his father as ever having smiled. Laughing, yes; but never smiling. He smiled at his father. The elders who were present nodded sagely at this interesting development. Then they were baffled when he put his arms round his father's neck and held him in a deep unrequited embrace.
    'I only asked you if you are well, my son,' the king said, embarrassed. 'There is no need for all this demonstration. Remember who you are. You are a prince, and the future king. Now control yourself.'
    He didn't. He stayed hugging his father, breathing in the strong essences and smells of his body, smells rich and potent with the personality of the king, his power, his strength, his unyielding force, his compact radiance, his awesome build, the herbs and potions of his personal and spiritual fortification. The son held on to the father as on to a great tree, a mighty legend. The son held on even when the father threw up his hands in royal exasperation. Then the father, the king, began to laugh. It was a wonderful laughter, and it rocked the kingdom.
    And all the elders began laughing too, and they held hands and spontaneously formed a circle and they danced, singing praise-songs around the son and his father, the prince and the king. And still the son held on to the might of the man, to the splendour of the father, feeling the king's great laughter shaking his tender frame and reordering forces within him that were misaligned, and filling him with energies, with