The two elder turned away to conceal their amusement at something strange in his insignificance, and the younger ones pushed each other, laughed aloud, and ran off in exuberant mirth. He stopped and his head sank. Then he suddenly felt his letter, opened and read it again. 19 The day came for the image from the temple to be drawn round the holy town in its chariot. The Queen said to the King, "Let us go and attend the festival." Only one man out of the whole household did not join in the pilgrimage. His work was to collect stalks of spear-grass to make brooms for the King's house. The chief of the servants said in pity to him, "You may come with us." He bowed his head, saying, "It cannot be." The man dwelt by the road along which the King's followers had to pass. And when the Minister's elephant reached this spot, he called to him and said, "Come with us and see the God ride in his chariot!" "I dare not seek God after the King's fashion," said the man. "How should you ever have such luck again as to see the God in his chariot?" asked the Minister. "When God himself comes to my door," answered the man. The Minister laughed loud and said, "Fool! 'When God comes to your door!' yet a King must travel to see him!" "Who except God visits the poor?" said the man. 20 Days were drawing out as the winter ended, and, in the sun, my dog played in his wild way with the pet deer. The crowd going to the market gathered by the fence, and laughed to see the love of these playmates struggle with languages so dissimilar. The spring was in the air, and the young leaves fluttered like flames. A gleam danced in the deer's dark eyes when she started, bent her neck at the movement of her own shadow, or raised her ears to listen to some whisper in the wind. The message comes floating with the errant breeze, with the rustle and glimmer abroad in the April sky. It sings of the first ache of youth in the world, when the first flower broke from the bud, and love went forth seeking that which it knew not, leaving all it had known. And one afternoon, when among the _amlak_ trees the shadow grew grave and sweet with the furtive caress of light, the deer set off to run like a meteor in love with death. It grew dark, and lamps were lighted in the house; the stars came out and night was upon the fields, but the deer never came back. My dog ran up to me whining, questioning me with his piteous eyes which seemed to say, "I do not understand!" But who does ever understand? 21 Our Lane is tortuous, as if, ages ago, she started in quest of her goal, vacillated right and left, and remained bewildered for ever. Above in the air, between her buildings, hangs like a ribbon a strip torn out of space: she calls it her sister of the blue town. She sees the sun only for a few moments at mid-day, and asks herself in wise doubt, "Is it real?"