Now see the glorious chariot of ivory inlaid with gold made ready by the gate of the Garden House, fronted with jewels glittering in the bright challenging sunbeams, spread with noble silks flowered with gold, and drawn by four equal-pacing stately horses, white as the ivory they drew, and harnessed with splendour,—their pride subdued to the pride of their master. And beside them stood Channa, the charioteer, a young man well born and noble in mind and person. So having saluted his wife, the Princess Yashodara, the Prince Siddhartha advancing ascended the chariot, robed in gold and jewels and appearing like Surya the sun when he blazes at his zenith, and all veiled their eyes from his brilliance. And as he came through the streets, his horses pacing gently, the people swayed toward him and a whisper of awe and delight ran through them like the breathing of a breeze that blows the blossoms in passing. Looking upon them his heart exulted with joy and kindness, for he thought—“This is my city of delight. These are my people, and it shall eternally be my bliss to do them good. Look at the strong fathers holding up their little sweet children to see their Prince. Their hearts are full of love even as my own. Look at the lovely mothers with their babes in warm bosoms—only less fair than Yashodara, and full of love and gentleness. And the glorious young men straight and tall, and the antelope-eyed girls with silken hair braided with blossoms. The Gods know it is a happy world with all these noble creatures in it, and my sick dreams of I know not what are dispersed in this bliss and the great joy of my people.” And he saluted with his hands, smiling right and left that none might be forgotten, and sometimes from the chariot he took an armful of flowers and tossed them lightly among the crowd and they were gathered up with delight and pressed to eager lips and brows because they had touched the Prince’s hand. So he went through the city, marvelling why his father had forbidden it hitherto. And as he flung his last handful of flowers the appointed moment struck—predestined by the Rulers,—and across the way of the chariot staggered an old, old man, and the stately stallions arched white necks and tossed their heads in disdain at this revolting sight, for they too had beheld nothing but loveliness until that moment. And because the commands of the Maharaja were stern it is said that this figure was no mortal man but a divinity hidden in flesh whom none could let or hinder and that the myriad people of Kapila saw nothing of this—but two saw clearly—the Prince and the charioteer, Channa. And how this may be I cannot tell. Thus have I heard.