"Fair, strong, and bold he stood, the little King; the noonday sun above the child's bare head scarce cast a shadow on his small, bare feet, standing so straight beside the water's edge, where, half afloat upon the clear, still depths, a small round raft of jasmine-blossoms lay ready to give the omen. "Heaped so high, so piled with little scented stars, that I--her servant with the crown she had bespoke--stood wondering what need there was of all. And round about the mirror-pool in rank sat Âtma's lovers waiting the decree. "Till suddenly the baby raised his hand. (There was a loose gold circlet on his wrist, which smote him on the breast as it fell back, making him wince, so all too large it was.) But the child bit his lip and took no heed, knowing his kingly part right royally; so, parrot-wise, he lisped the ordered words: 'My mother Âtma hath no need for love; since she hath mine. She hath no need, my lords, for you as lovers, but she sends by me, as sister sends her brothers, that which sure should heal the strife and make you brothers too.' "So at the last he stooped, and with a push sent the flower-raft afloat upon the pool, dipping and dancing on the waves it made, so that the loose, white blossoms of the pile floated to drift like stars upon the depths, leaving what lay beneath them clear and cold. "O Âtma mâta! why was I not blind? Thy face, thy face was there in flowers enshrined! Thy cold dead face, with cold dead flowers entwined. * * * * * "O world she left! to bring it peace not war. O world she left, forget not she was fair, So very fair. The jasmine in her hair And round her kind, wise face; about her throat The cold blue stones, and for her queenly crown The sunlight in the water--like the stars. "O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind, He and his sons for ever, lest they find Thy face within the wreath their fingers bind." * * * * * The old man's song ceased, but he went on without a pause. "The _Huzoor_ will hear that it is all about Âtma. Her name is there always." He had finished stringing the flowers also, and now with a deft hand set the fragile garland--strung like a daisy chain upon a dead woman's hair and then tied to a circle--afloat upon the water, where it drifted idly, each separate flower separate, and keeping its appointed place. A crown of scented stars! I roused myself to answer. "Undoubtedly it is all about Âtma; but you have not told me why you weave the crown?" "It is always woven, _Huzoor_," he replied. "Our family belongs to the place, and as one son is always blind, he stays at home--since he cannot earn money at other trades, _Huzoor_--and makes Mai Âtma's crown as his fathers did." "One son is always blind?" I echoed curiously. "Always, _Huzoor_. It is ever so. One is blind in each generation, so he makes Mai Âtma's crown."