Then the king by using two reeds made both the children move, and they went together wheresoever he wished them. But they had not the slightest idea of the king’s action on them. They recognized each other, and played with each other. They saw the king and had a certain regard for him, but of his action on them they knew nothing. For they felt his bearing the pain as this thing or that being pleasurable. They felt his action as a motive in themselves. And all day long the king went with them, leading them through the valley, bearing the pain of each step, so that the children felt nothing but pleasure. But at nightfall he led them back to the rude dwelling where he had found them. He led them by taking the pain from their steps in that direction, and not taking any of the pain from steps in any other direction. And when they had entered the dwelling-place he removed his reeds from them. Immediately they sank down into the state of apathy in which he had found them. They did not move. And the king at nightfall sought again the side of the ravine. Gazing across it he saw the sandy waste of the land from which he had come, he saw the great stones which were scattered about, looking pale and grey in the moonlight. And presently in the shadow of a rock near the opposite brink he discerned the form of the old man. And he cried out to him, and bade him come near. And when the old man stood opposite to him, he besought him to tell him how he could make the beings go through their movements of life without his bearing so much pain. And the old man took his staff in his hand, and he held it out towards the king, over the depth. “Behold, O king, thy secret,” he cried. And with his other hand he smote the staff which was pointing down into the depths. The staff swung to and fro many times, and at last it came to rest again. Then the king besought him to explain what this might signify. “Thou hast been,” replied the old man, “as one who, wishing to make a staff swing to and fro, has made every movement separately, raising it up by his hand each time that it falls down. But, behold, when I set it in movement it goes through many swings of itself, both downward and upward, until the movement I imparted to it is lost. Even so thou must make these beings go through both pleasure and pain, thyself bearing but the difference, not taking all the pain.” “Must I then,” asked the king, “by bearing pain give these beings a certain store of pleasure, and then let them go through their various actions until they have exhausted this store of pleasure?”