“You seem oppressed, my friend. I know you regret the way in which all the wise and important people you have brought here look on me, and you must feel some sorrow for the partial loss of esteem they have showed you in consequence. Can I help you to bear it?” At that moment the door opened, and a messenger came in and gave the clerk a sealed packet. He opened it and saw that it was his appointment to the vacant seat in the council chamber. But his face did not brighten. He answered his companion moodily, and thus the day ended. CHAPTER XI. On the next day the student rose early and went forth alone. He did not, as was his wont, go amongst the people, but he passed through the streets towards the open country. On his way he was stopped by an old woman, bent with age and many infirmities. She had no place amongst the people, and had so many pains and such a barrenness of existence that any one who had thought of her would have wondered that she remained alive. She stopped him and said, “Master, I have heard that you can take my pain. Help me.” But he answered, looking at her, “No, I cannot, but I have a message for you.” And she said, “A message for me? I do not know any one who would send me a message.” But he answered, “Nevertheless, I have a message to you from my lord, and he bids me thank you.” She answered, “It cannot be. You must have made a mistake.” But he said, “I have made no mistake; he thanks you.” He could not explain to her how by her bearing pain, according to the law of the valley, she took it from that which the king bore. Instead of saying that, he gave her the message, and somehow the old woman believed it. The rest of the day he spent in the open country. When he returned it was getting towards dusk. There was an unusual movement in the streets. On passing into the public market-place he saw a crowd collected; and when he had penetrated to their midst, he saw lying on the ground the child he had kept so long. It had been lying uncared for and exposed for many hours; and the want of food, the fright, and its gasping breathing made it the most pitiable object. He at once stepped towards it and took it up in his arms. “Is that your child?” said one of the crowd. “It is not my own,” he answered, “but I take care of it.” “Then it is you that are bringing pain upon us all,” shouted several voices from the back of the crowd. And some one shouted out: “I know you. You pretend to take pain away and you really bring much more in secret.”