So it was done, but the Maharaja in terror bade them redouble the pleasures of the Paradise and of the Garden House. And at great cost he bought a fair slave from the outlands, golden-haired as dawn, sapphire-eyed as blue ice of the Himalaya, white as the elephants’ tusk, skilled in all arts of love, and among the darker beauties of the pleasure chambers she moved radiant as though day had broken forth in starry midnight, and all the neighbouring Kings hearing were envious. And in this beauty all hoped, even the sad Yashodara, and her heart failed her when she saw the Prince’s eyes coldly averted from loveliness that might have stirred the eternal Gods. And again she sent a message to the Maharaja. “Your son, my lord, will not look upon the beautiful white stranger nor on any. O send him forth in freedom, for penned in these sweet gardens he muses and meditates and what is in his heart I cannot know, but fear very terribly. Yet guard the way that no sad sight approach him, for if he sees more all is lost.” And again orders were given, and as before the Prince set forth, but this time grave and sad, and the crowds shared his mood and the city could not rejoice. And as they neared the street all a-flutter with banners and flowers and perfumes and thronged with silent gazing thousands again a divinity masked his divinity in tortured flesh (thus it is told), and by the way was seen a sick man struggling for life in a losing battle. His body was swollen and disfigured, his hollow cheeks blazed with fever and in his dying eyes fear and agony contended. Scarce could he drag himself along, moaning and crying for pity, the hot tears pouring and searing his cheeks as they ran. And seeing it, the Prince set his hands on the reins and checked the horses and cried aloud. “What is this horror?” So the charioteer, Channa, with fear tearing at his vitals, yet compelled by a force beyond all resistance to no other than the truth, answered: “Prince, it is a sick man. The four elements are all confused and disordered, he is worn, feeble, and strengthless, tortured in body and mind, dependent upon the mercy of men whose own evil day is but postponed.” And a shudder ran through the crowd as the Prince questioned him, shrinking back as one in mortal fear. “And this too is the common doom?” “Prince, none escape it.” “And the few poor years that old age leaves us are broken into misery like this?” “Prince, so it is.” And he said: “Turn my chariot again, I will go no further. I have seen what I have seen.” So the news was carried to the Maharaja and he was almost beside himself, raging with anger that was half fear, and he sent for his wise minister, and cried to him: